


Dream A Little Dream of Me

by HQK



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Sex, F/M, Female Reader, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sex (Star Wars), Gratuitous Smut, Hate Sex, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Being a Little Shit, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Lots of it, Masturbation, Non force-sensitive Reader, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, a lot of feelings, does diplomatic things, kylo ren can be nice, negotiator reader, original characters are just npcs, she works under Hux, some angst at kylo ren, sometimes, somewhat enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQK/pseuds/HQK
Summary: You've recently been promoted to senior negotiator under General Hux. Initially you were excited for your new job, but you soon discovered your duties amounted to nothing more than cleaning up all the political messes caused by our favorite handsome nightmare, Kylo Ren. Facing mockery from your coworkers at your joke of a position, you've developed quite a grudge for the Commander. You hate him with every fiber of your being. There's just one problem:You can't stop dreaming of him.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader
Comments: 110
Kudos: 324





	1. When I'm alone, as blue as can be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So quarantine has got me fucked up and I keep dreaming of Kylo Ren fucking my brains out to curb the touch starvation. Anyway, I figured I might as well share my coping mechanism. I hope you enjoy emotional conflict and Kylo Ren being a little shit cause that's what your'e getting.

_The breeze was warm and sweet against your skin. It moved the tall grass around your ankles like waves on the sea, carrying the smell of wildflowers and wet earth. You remembered this place, or at least you felt like you did. Maybe you’d only been in passing or seen it in a holovid once—like a childhood memory of questionable accuracy._

_Wherever you were, the familiarity was comforting, and you welcomed the sunlight like an old friend's arm around your shoulder._

_Looking around the wide clearing, you breathed deeply of the cool, crisp air and let your feet carry you deeper, toward where you knew someone was waiting._

_He was here somewhere, he always was. And so you walked through the field, basked in the half-knowing of it and you waited. Eventually you came to a stream, it trickled, smoothing out rocks and stones as it went. You closed your eyes and listened to the faint sound of it._

_You didn’t hear him approach. Only felt a solid chest press up against your back and two large, pleasantly rough hands trail up your arms. A small smile creeped its way onto your lips, and you melted into it._

_Your dreamworld companion’s hair tickled your cheek as he leaned down, resting his chin on the top of your head and wrapping you tightly to him. From the corner of your eye, you could see the rich, dark locks sway in the wind. The lovely baritone of his voice ghosted over your ears._

_“Relax,” the Commander said._

_But you could only hum in response. His fingers had already begun to work the knots from your shoulders, molding your flesh to fit perfectly in his palm. The scent of worn leather and warm skin and something wildly human surrounded you. It filled you painfully, reminding you of what once was empty and which you’d forgotten. Forgotten how full and solid you used to be. You hung desperately onto the feeling._

_How long had it been since you were this close to another person?_

_Since you were held or even touched?_

_And how long had you secretly craved it?_

_How long had you hidden this starvation from even yourself?_

_“Shhh,” his deep voice pulled you from your downward spiral. It dripped like honey down your throat and you spun in his grasp to finally see his face._

_Handsome, he was so handsome. Moles dotted his pale skin like stars, his prominent nose and plush lips were framed by a strong jaw. He stared back down at you with soft brown eyes._

_You were dying to bury your fingers in those perfect, shoulder-length waves of hair. He huffed—only a half laugh—and caught your hands before they reached his face._

_“You have to go,” he murmured, and—as if in penance—brought one of your captured hands up to brush a stray lock out of his face._

_It was just as silky as you’d imagined._

_But everything was fading out around the edges, the feeling of his strong arms around you melted away and the quiet sound of waving grass and babbling water was replaced by_ hard boots pounding on durasteel.

You woke with a start, head jerking up from the desk. One of Hux’s aides stood in the middle of your small office, rattling off his most recent orders. But in your stupor, you only caught the tail end of the report on Commander Ren’s meeting with the ambassadors for Coruscant.

“He did what?”

You’d finally gotten some time to make a dent in the massive stack of paperwork piling up on your desk although—judging from the puddle of drool soaking through them—you’d fallen asleep before starting. All the pleasantness leftover from your dream quickly leaked out of your joints, leaving them to ache from the odd sleeping position. Finally you turned your full attention to the lieutenant. Poor man looked like they’d sprinted there, hair out of place and grey uniform jacket unkempt.

“Commander Ren’s contact with the Coruscanti representatives escalated,” he explained, frantically pacing across your office. “And now they’re threatening to withdraw support from the Order’s new push for expansion in their sector.”

The lieutenant ran a hand through his hair nervously. You recognized him, sort of. You really should remember his name considering you both worked closely under General Hux, but it escaped you at the moment. He was boring, forgettable, and most of all, consistently the bearer of horrible news. You sighed from deep in your chest, gathering the strength to not shatter your skull against the desk top.

“So you need me to—”

He cut you off mid sentence, “Damage control, yes.”

That had become your unofficial title since being promoted to Senior Negotiator. Head of Damage Control, Head of Maintenance (for the First Order’s Reputation) etc… Of course what it actually meant was: Head of Cleaning Up Commander Ren’s Messes. Because that was all you ever did now.

You were a glorified maid, relegated to tidying completely avoidable, politically charged conflict.

“And Hux ordered this?”

“Yes,” your disgruntled co-worker snapped, “I wouldn’t have come here in person if the General wasn’t breathing down my neck.”

You scowled, grabbing your datapad and scrolling through the recent messages before speaking. “Have the incident report forwarded to me and I’ll reach out to our ambassadors to set a meeting.”

“It should come through in a minute or two,” he replied, fixing his hair before heading to the door, stopping before it opened. “I don’t think I have to tell you not to screw this—”

It was your turn to cut him off this time, “You do know I rank higher than you, right officer?”

He had the decency to shut his mouth, although the look he gave came across very clearly:

_Do you really though?_

Thanks to Commander Ruin Everything, the unfortunate answer to that was an emphatic ‘‘no.” But you were going to cling to your empty power for as long as possible.

“Get out of my office,” you barked and went back to the screen of refreshing messages.

When the metal clank of your office door closing reverberated through the tiny room, you deflated. The incident report flashed red and urgent on your datapad, but you ignored it. Instead, opting to lay your head on the desk and pound your frustration into the metal. Every week it was something different.

But it was always the Commander, and it was always your problem.

In the beginning, you’d been elated that the General trusted to handle such high level mediations, but that quickly faded with the increased frequency in murdered staff or insulted royalty. Soon, your position devolved into tailing Ren across the base, picking up all the broken pieces he left behind.

Hux was all too happy to unload any and all responsibility for the Commander’s actions onto you, which then encouraged all the other officers to do so as well. Your office was transformed into an industrial sized trash can for unwanted public relation nightmares caused by the walking mass of black fabric and internalized rage.

Needless to say, you’d developed a grudge.

Your heart beat now solely for the purpose of providing your brain with enough oxygen to hate that man. And stars, you did.

Every time his name came out of someone’s mouth or popped up in one of the reports on your desk, you felt an insticitive rush of adrenaline. The very few times you actually saw him, it took all your composure to quell the automatic fight response that tensed your muscles and flushed your face. Maker, you despised the Commander and all his inconsiderate immaturity with your entire being.

But you couldn’t stop dreaming about him.

It had started months ago, a little while after you’d received your promotion to Hux’s personal staff. At first, the scenes were hazy and you didn’t remember much when you woke up. But as the weeks went on they were clearer and more frequent. You weren’t entirely sure what your subconscious was trying to tell you, but it most likely meant you were not dealing with your intense loathing for the Commander as well as you thought.

In fact, the dreams only confused you more. Your dream Commander was so...nice. And it was hard for you not to grasp onto that.

You spent your days sucking up and lying through your teeth to egotistic politicians who looked at you like dirt on their shoe. The higher ups on base didn’t take you anymore seriously now than they did when you were just a lowly assistant.

So when you drifted off at night only to fall into the strong, well defined arms of Kylo Ren...it was nearly impossible to resist the human contact even if it was imaginary. And you found that when you were standing beside the gently rocking seaside or in a sunny field of grass—or any other picturesque, calming landscape—you didn’t hate him so much anymore.

You really couldn’t when his lovely hands sapped away all your frustrations and untied all the angry knots of tension and fear and dissatisfaction in your shoulders.

He rarely spoke much, but maybe that was just because you’d never really heard him speak in your real life—at least not without that ridiculous mask. You’d read somewhere before that the brain can’t actually create faces you’ve never seen before, so the same might as well go for voices. But the few times he did, you became putty in his hands.

It was very hard to reconcile the Kylo Ren who held you softly and radiated warmth to the cold and distant Commander who flooded your desk with an endless stream of needlessly complicated disasters.

In the end, you always woke up feeling uncomfortably conflicted, and spent the rest of the day being reminded of reasons not to be.

Unable to ignore the blaring message any longer, you peeled yourself from the durasteel and opened the document. At this point, you were pretty familiar with Kylo Ren’s MO, so you skimmed most of it. Half way through the detailed description of an incredibly inappropriate violent outburst, you put the datapad down and resigned yourself to the week of ass-kissing it would take to salvage this.

Another notification blared red on the screen, alerting you to the mandatory weekly briefing on the Bridge. You sent a quick message requesting a conference room to be reserved and for copious amounts the Coruscanti Representative’s favorite expensive alcohol to be delivered to the embassy. Hopefully that would fast track your newest clean up mission.

Luckily, this would probably be the worst thing that was going to happen to you today.

***

You’d spoken too soon.

“I’m sorry ma’am, this room is reserved for the officers briefing,” the guard said stiffly, blocking your path with his arm. You were unfortunately familiar with this routine. Having found it best to simply ignore them, you attempted to enter the conference room again to no avail.

“Yes, I’m aware,” you gritted out. “I’m the General’s senior negotiator.”

The guards shared a look. “Like I said,” he sneered down at you, “this meeting is for officers, not janitorial staff.”

You bristled, fingers nearly snapping the spine of your briefing binder, but the string of choice words that popped into your head was drowned out by the sound of brisk, heavy footsteps.

Both the guards snapped to attention, and you felt a dark weight settle in the middle of your back. You could see Commander Ren’s shadow engulfing yours as he approached, coming to a stop just behind you. The static of his breath just barely audible beneath the pounding of blood in your ears.

This was probably the closest you’d ever come to the man whose one goal in life—when not invading your dreams and making you so softforhim—seemed to be undermining everything you did.

Other than standing on the opposite side of the room during these meetings he almost never attended, you’d only run into the Commander a handful of times during your stint with the First Order. Only glimpsed him stalking the halls like a looming spectre—an omen of calamity—or staring down the Bridge at officers as though they were ants under his heel.

His presence was oppressive, and you could still smell the ozone crackle of lightsaber in the air around him. But you would not allow yourself to be intimidated by this man goddammit. Half of your job was pretending to be happy to see people—and you were an expert by now. The Commander couldn’t be much different from every other diplomat you’d convinced into cooperation via intense flattery. And at this point, you had not an ounce of shame left in your body.

With a most tooth-rottingly sweet smile plastered on your face, you turned, craning your neck a bit to see his masked face. The only discernible indication that he realized you were there was the slight downward twitch of his helmet.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you began and abruptly stopped as your entire body shifted a foot to the left.

Kylo Ren didn’t spare you another glance as he walked through the conference room doors, dropping the hand which had flicked you aside like an annoying fly as he went.

You practically vibrated with indignation, spinning on your heel to stare at his retreating form. The look you gave his broad back could have melted plastoid. Your brain stuttered, spitting out only a slew of curses: _cockybastardshitheadentitledasshole_.

If you’d had any lingering mercy for him leftover from your romp in dreamland, it had evaporated.

One of the guards moved to block your path once again as you followed through the doors, but you shouldered your way through without a word, praying the Commander could hear every depraved thought in your head.

But if he caught any snippets of your angry internal rant, he didn’t seem to care.

You took your seat alongside the General’s other members of staff and waited for the meeting to begin. Meanwhile, the Commander had planted himself in the far corner of the room like he was trying to blend in with the black decor, and did not move again for the rest of the meeting.

This was his routine—when he actually showed up—and it confused and rattled you to no end that he’d have the audacity to stand by listening to all the shit he caused without ever contributing a single word. You supposed though, that you shouldn’t be surprised, as you were not completely convinced that he actually had a job here—other than making yours harder— or in fact, did any work at all.

You did your best to think all these thoughts very loudly in hopes that maybe he’d pick them up. Not that you knew anything about how the Force worked, but it made you feel a little better to think he heard you.

After each agenda item was addressed, Hux went through the assignments for the week. There was only a brief mention of the disastrous meeting with the Coruscanti ambassadors earlier that day, which consisted only of a simple yet frustrated look from the General to you. The message of “deal with it” was communicated loud and clear. In the end, everyone was quickly dismissed.

It took you awhile to gather up all the extra documents that had been passed to you and the room was mostly empty by the time you got yourself together.

You scanned the remaining officers, hoping the Commander was still among them so you could corner him more successfully into conversation, but the corners were free of shadows. Sighing, you trudged out onto the bridge and began to make your way slowly back to the officers quarters for the night. Shifts would be changing soon and you wanted to take advantage of the precious few free hours you were allotted.

The doors of your room slid shut behind you, drowning out any noise from the corridor. You plopped the paperwork down on your small desk; it could be dealt with later. Crossing the tiny space, you stumbled into the refresher, stripping uniform pieces off haphazardly along the way.

Lukewarm water sputtered down onto your back. It had never gotten warmer than that in all the years you’d occupied this room. You blindly scrubbed away your responsibilities—the inevitable meeting with angry representatives—and pressed your face against the cool tile. After a few minutes, you shut the water off and toweled dry before tumbling naked onto your bunk.

The firm mattress was not comfortable by any means but it was familiar and so you quickly felt your eyes drifting shut.

Moments like these were your favorite—and you had precious few of them—when you could simply escape the constant conflicts and expectations and let your mind wander instead of obsessively hunting for solutions. Rarely did you get the opportunity to take a moment for yourself.

To relax.

You shifted lower down the bed, your hand drifting down slowly, pausing to tease at your bare breasts before continuing down. Letting your legs fall apart, you fell into an easy routine.

The one upside to near total intimate isolation in the First Order was the abundance of time you had to figure out how to rub out an amazing orgasm on your own.

You were wet already, and let out a shaky breath when your fingers finally grazed your clit. It had been so long, the slow circles you rubbed around the bundle of nerves made you shiver.

“Oh fuck…” you breathed out.

Another low moan escaping your lips as you let two fingers dip shallowly into your pussy. You pumped them deeper as you felt yourself open up, searching and finding the spot inside that made you gasp.

Your mind began to wander, circling inevitably back to the last thing you wanted to be thinking about, Kylo Ren. To be fair, it was his fault that you thought of him so often. If he wasn’t such a massive dick, then your paths would never have to cross. You’d never have to play janitor, never have to dream of him holding you with those gigantic hands.

But that thought only sent you spiraling further.

Because everything about him was so big. You’d already known that, but until earlier you’d never actually experienced it. He towered over you, and not in the way he did in your dreams. Then he wasn’t so overwhelming. No matter how much he pissed you off, you had to admit it was tantalizing the things he could do without lifting more than a finger.

You wondered how big he must be everywhere else, and the thought was—while partially disgusting—also unfortunately exciting.

A familiar, warm pressure was building faintly, but you didn’t want to tip over the edge just yet. You wanted to enjoy the pleasant feeling of being stuffed full, grinding down on your fingers and adding a third as you did, gushing around them. Imagining for just a second they were not your fingers for once.

Ren’s hands had to be calloused and rough from all his saber training, just like your dreams. They’d feel delicious sliding over your skin, catching on the curves perfectly. If anything, you felt entitled to the fantasy. The Commander owed you more than a few favors at this point.

So you let the image form. Strong arms making the mattress dip on either side of you, and delightfully long, thick fingers replacing yours, pumping hard and fast and curving perfectly. His thumb catching your clit on every stroke to send you careening over the edge.

Your heavy eyes slipped closed and you focused solely on the pleasure of that perfect rhythm in your pussy. But even as you felt your orgasm approaching, exhaustion seemed to be winning out. It felt as though you were drifting, the bed beneath you transforming into something softer, that you sunk into, buried in the heat kindled under your skin.

_It wasn’t until you felt his hand tugging your wrist that your eyes flew open._

_Kylo Ren was staring down at you, beautiful black hair framing his face. His eyes were wide and seemed to drink you in, lingering on your bare chest for just a second before catching your gaze._

_The hand on your wrist tugged one again, and you whimpered, pussy clenching around the sudden emptiness. You were laid out on your back in a sea of soft black sheets, warmed by the Commander’s body pressed to your side, propped up on an elbow._

_He was still clothed, although not drowning in dark fabric. Instead, a set of loose pants and shirt which flowed, exposing tantalizing swaths of pale skin dotted with pretty freckles. His breath fanned over your face, smelling pleasantly of mint._

_You were shocked by how little embarrassment you felt—naked and exposed in front of your superior whom you’d just pleasured yourself to. In fact, his presence only ignited in you a greater need and you shamelessly met his eyes. He stared back, unreadable._

_Something inside you kindled and sparked, burned and craved. You were all at once consumed by the desire to feel hot skin against you, to be filled in a way you couldn’t achieve on your own, to touch and hold and be, above all, wanted._

_To find release._

_Emboldened by your revelation—and the silent knowledge that you were alone in your head—you reached out._

_He didn’t pause to catch your hands this time, and they sunk wonderfully into the soft hair at the base of his neck. You tugged gently, watching Kylo’s eyes close briefly and listening to the soft hitch in his breath. It spurred you on, taking advantage of the free reign you’d apparently been granted._

_One of your hands slipped down, smoothing over the hard plans of muscle in his chest. You paused to flick your thumb over a nipple that peaked against the fabric of his shirt, earning yourself another small gasp. You decided quickly that it might have been the most wonderful thing you’d ever heard_

_Looking back up at him, you saw the restraint barely holding on in his gaze. You supposed the Commander was not a man used to being teased, but this was your dream._

_He’d just have to get used to it._

_He cocked an eyebrow at you, and chuckled darkly. You watched, entranced at the way it spilled from his throat._

_Without another though, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and pushed against him until his back hit the sheets with a soft thump so you could take your turn at stargazing._

_Shifting to straddle him, you sat back against his incredibly firm thighs. For a few moments you simply looked at each other, committing all the curves and dips and rolls to memory. You catalogued every scar that poked out from behind his clothing, wanting desperately to taste them. Run your tongue over each line and ragged edge. You watched as he twitched at the thought._

_Then, slowly, the Commander brought up a massive hand, gripping your hip and squeezing the soft flesh—his eyes were black, pupils blown wide and you could feel the question in them, the silent urging. What now?_

_It reminded you of the absence you’d discovered your last time meeting him. The cavern that had formed somewhere in you, that shriveled you like a ripe fruit in the sun._

_Suddenly unsure, you stalled. It had been so long, so long since you’d done this that you no longer remembered how._

_“Sir?” you mumbled, nearly inaudible, since you didn't know what else to call him._

_And as you stared blankly down at him and he sat up. You got the distinct impression from the look on his face that he knew every word you thought but couldn’t say and probably always had. Ren’s lips brushed your ear, biting down on the lobe and sucking it between his lips._

_“What do you want?”_

_His voice was deep and dark and crashed against you like whitecaps on rough water. You took a breath._

_So much, you thought._

_There was a beast in your bones that had seemingly just awoke and it smiled, sharp and hungry. You couldn’t recall the last time anyone had asked you that. Or when, in fact, you’d asked it of yourself. But if you were going to be honest somewhere, it might as well be here. Where no one could hear it. You leaned in too, pressing your cheek to his._

_“Touch me,” the words left you in a rush, taking all your air with them._

_Kylo didn’t waste a second. His hands were on you immediately, They skimmed up your sides and back, pausing to cup your tits. Calloused fingertips brushed over your nipples as they hardened against his palms._

_He stared intently at your face, watching as you let out a strangled whimper. He placed a hand in the center of your chest and pushed, until you leaned back, gripping his thighs and he could press his face to the valley between your breasts._

_“Commander, ahh,” you gasped, letting your head fall back._

_Lovely pink lips brushed over your skin, until they parted sucking one of your nipples into the wet heat of his mouth. Pleasure surged under your skin and straight to your clit as his tongue laved over the sensitive skin._

_You wound your fingers into his hair again, scraping your nails against his scalp and feeling the vibrations of his moan against your breast._

_He pulled back with a wet pop only to ravish the other with attention, glancing up at you darkly through his lashes. You tugged again, overwhelmed with the sudden need to taste him, feel how soft you knew those lips must be._

_Slightly crooked teeth nipped at you, catching the stiff peak of your nipple between them. Ren watching all the time as you squirmed and gasped. He leveled you with a dangerous glare and the game became clear to you._

_You’d be getting nothing if you didn’t use your words._

_“Fine,” you murmured in defeat, “kiss me.”_

_His mouth turned up in a devious half-smile, “Good girl.”_

_You felt the last of his words as his lips crashed into yours. The hand on your chest came up to cup the back of your head, thumb settling on your pulse._

_You’d nearly forgotten how it felt, revealing in the warm, sweet taste of him as the Commander licked into your mouth. You hands grasped him blindly, trying to find their way under his clothes and feel him too, but he snatched your wrists away, holding them in one hand between your chests. His tongue swirled over your teeth, tangled with your own. And you wanted more. More of him on you, around you, in you._

_You wondered how you could ever hate him. Wondered if abhorrence and whatever you felt right now could coexist._

_In the moment, you had no answers. Not when his fingers sent sparks crackling along your throat when he put just the perfect amount of pressure there. Or when he ground his hardening cock into you, your slick coating the silky fabric of his pants. It felt just as big as you’d thought it’d be. Kylo Ren was nothing if not proportional. The friction of it on your clit was already rekindling the warmth in your belly._

_You need more. Needed him to send you over the edge, wanted to take him with you._

_Your hands tried to slip from his grip on them, to reach for the waistband of his pants but he imobilzed them effortlessly. You squirmed, wanting to see him, to please him too._

_“Not now,” was all he said, his thumb on your pulse compressing harder._

_Grunting into his mouth, you lifted your hips so that the tip of his dick caught your clit with every lazy upward thrust and listened triumphantly to the little noise that escaped him. Your teeth clacked together, when he moved to bite at your lower lip, but it didn’t matter, you wanted everything he could give you._

_“Please,” you gasped into the small space between your mouths._

_He pulled you firmly down into his lap, grinding harder against your slit. “Tell me what you want,” he repeated, his voice turning the words into a delicious challenge._

_Thank god you were only dreaming. You couldn’t imagine ever actually saying any of this out loud._

_You slid your tongue against his plush lips, “I want you inside me.”_

_He exhaled sharply, the hand on your throat twitching as he regarded you with those impossibly brown eyes._

_In the span of a second you found yourself on your back once again, the Commander leaning over you, hair tumbling into his face, settled between your legs. He kissed and licked and nipped his way down your body—curiously stopping at all the secret little places which sent you reeling._

_You watched as he spread your soaked lips apart and coated his fingers in your slick._

_“Commander,” you whined, propped up on your elbows as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, and sucked at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh._

_“What, not what you wanted?” he taunted, punctuating his words with a particularly hard nip, “you should have been more specific.”_

_You glared down at him, confused as to how your own fantasy had gotten away from you, but that all melted away when he finally sealed his lips around your clit._

_“Oh fuck,” you grunted, head falling back onto the sheets._

_He sucked—hard—while two impossibly long, thick fingers circled your entrance before pushing in to the hilt. You yelped, nearly sobbed, at the feeling of finally being full._

_Memories from long ago surfaced of how good it felt to have something other than your own hands to please yourself. The Commander groaned into you. The vibrations of it were heaven on your clit and his fingers curled, pumping in and out at a brutal pace._

_You tried to move your hips to meet his hand, but his free palm pressed down on your hips, locking you in place. Kylo released your clit only to lick a long stripe up your pussy, lapping up your wetness that glistened on your skin. You moaned in earnest now, loudly and from deep in your chest._

_You wanted so badly to let go, to come undone._

_It didn’t take Ren long to find the spot that made you gasp and writhe. He pulled back, watching his fingers be swallowed by your pussy before turning his gaze to you—face twisted and mouth open, panting as your peak mounted._

_“Are you going to cum for me?”_

_He was out of breath too, you could feel his heavy breaths as he rested his cheek against your thigh. His voice was laced with pleasure though you weren’t sure why. You nodded wordlessly, too far lost in the feeling of him inside you to form a coherent sentence._

_You glimpsed something in his eyes as he stared up at you, pride maybe, but he quickly returned to lavish your neglected clit. He pulled it between his teeth, the tip of his tongue tracing perfect circles around the bundle of nerves. The familiar warm feeling was building in your gut, coming to a crest as he kept up that perfect rhythm._

_“Please d-don’t stop,” you gasped out, hand reaching down to grip his beautiful hair in an attempt to ground yourself._

_He thankfully kept his pace, replacing his mouth with a thumb only momentarily to gasp out quickly._

_“Say my name,” he whispered against your slit before seamlessly sealing his mouth back over your clit._

_You barely registered his request, wondering distantly if you had ever spoken his name out loud, but willing to do just about anything for him to make you cum._

_“Ah, Kylo,” you mumbled softly, gripping his hair hard in your fist. He moaned and you needed to hear it again, so you repeated it until it was the only word you remembered how to say._

_“Kylokylokylokylo,” it tumbled out of you like a dam had burst, crescendoing as your peak approached._

_All it took was one more circle of his tongue and a sharp thrust of his fingers in your pussy and you were tumbling over the edge. Your legs clamped around his head and his name fell softer and softer from your lips as he worked you through your orgasm, milking the pleasure from your veins._

_“Good girl,” he whispered, or it felt as though he did._

_Everything was drifting away._

_You could no longer feel Kylo’s (was that who he was to you now?) warm skin but your body felt sated and heavy and your eyes drifted finally shut. You tried to reach out for...something, anything to pull yourself back. But there were no silk sheets beneath you any longer, just empty space which cradled you into oblivion._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. More is to come for this story if there's enough interest. I'm thinking something like 5 or 6 parts maybe? Please comment if you liked it/want more its the only thing that keeps me going anymore. Also check me out on tumblr for more updates on this and some of my other Kylo trash @star-killer-md. Stay safe y'all <333


	2. Still craving your kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation with the Coruscanti Representatives wasn't going very well for you from the beginning and it's about to take a turn for the worst. Now dealing with incompetent staff and a indefinitely snarky boss, you find yourself even more entrenched in Kylo Ren than you ever wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Sorry for the length and the amount of expository shit, but I have to get it out of the way so we can get to the fun stuff. I hope it's still enjoyable. Bonus points if you catch The Office reference.

The room was cold when you woke up, sheets twisted over your bare skin and alarm beeping softly from the night stand. The shifts were changing soon and you’d be expected to meet General Hux on the Bridge to receive your daily assignments. But the pulsing soreness between your legs reminded you more pressingly of what you’d done last night.

Or what you’d _dreamed_ you’d done, more specifically. For a dream you certainly ached like you really did spend the night getting finger blasted by the Commander.

You groaned, and rolled over to bury your face in a pillow. That was something you hadn’t ever expected to think about.

And you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

When you closed your eyes, you could still see him. Handsome face framed between your thighs, dark eyes gazing up at you through his lashes while he buried his fingers deeper into—

You threw off the pillow and sat up, running a frustrated hand through your hair. But it only made you think of how soft Kylo’s was when you dragged your nails through it, catching on the knots, and listening to those intoxicating little grunts he made.

_Kylo._

Was that what he was to you now?

Your face flushed uncomfortably as you recalled how his name had poured unbidden out of your mouth, had trickled then rushed past your teeth in a flood, and which you didn’t dare to utter again—even in the silence of your quarters. It felt wrong now that you were no longer indulging in the fantasy of him.

Because the real Kylo Ren would not look at your naked form as though he were a god receiving an exquisite offering. Would not hold your throat exposed in his hand and ask to bring you pleasure. Would not gasp into your mouth. Would not kiss you. Would never. You were not entirely certain he had the mental capacity to do any of those things. In the daylight, imagining him in that way created an uncomfortable sense of cognitive dissonance.

The real Kylo Ren couldn’t be bothered to speak a word to you.

You were suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of loss at the thought. An awful sort of unfounded loss for something you had never possessed in the first place. It was as though your subconscious was dangling the enticing warmth of human connection just out of arm's reach. And while watching you leap and grasp, it cruelly allowed you to secure a firm hold every so often, only to wrench it away.

Sometimes sating starvation only made the hunger worse.

The simple answer, then, was ‘no.’ The Commander would never be anything more than exactly what he was. A command, an unstoppable force, something to be followed and never amended by inferior beings like you. And while your occupation consisted of talking men into any number of improbable things, you knew you would never be able to convince Kylo Ren to hold you the way he did in your head.

That was a feat words could never achieve, and those were the only weapons you’d ever been allotted.

Your datapad beeped again, derailing your train of thought. Which was probably for the best. You would have plenty of time to agonize over your imaginary standing with Commander Ren later, and would most likely be persuaded out of any leniency towards him by whatever message was waiting for you anyway.

The bright screen blinded you momentarily when it booted up, flashing a message from one of the junior negotiations staff.

**Re: Operation Appease Coruscanti Representatives**

_Hello Ma’am,_

_I have an update on the Coruscant situation. Unfortunately the gifts you ordered to be sent to the embassy were turned away and the junior staff team was unable to open a clear line of communication with the Representatives who met Commander Ren. After some failed attempts to persuade them otherwise, they have declined to meet on base entirely._

_Additionally, they are sending two First Order appointed officials to discuss with you their terms of negotiation and request for reparations who will arrive within the hour. Conference Room 440B has been reserved upon your request._

_Officer Hitomi Ito_   
_Junior Negotiator_

Your eye twitched as you read over the message once again, garnering the same infuriating information. At the soonest possible moment, you vowed to hunt down whoever the hell had led these “failed attempts” and skin them as your reparations.

Tossing the blankets aside and stumbling to your small closet, you picked out one of the identical, pressed black uniforms and began to slide it on piece by piece.

Trying to build up some amount of composure before you marched off to represent the First Order, you reminded yourself that no matter how incompetent the junior staff seemed, it was not totally their fault for completely bungling this extremely important operation.

When a child tries to fly a ship and crashes it into the ground, you don’t blame the kid; they didn’t know any better. No, you blamed the senior staff who said ‘fly kid, I trust you,’ then spent the next five hours getting mind-fucked (literally) instead of supervising, and the irresponsible Commander who concocted this entire situation in the first place.

Throbbing below the waist and already fed up with the day, you slipped your jacket into place and walked out the door. Hux would have to wait for the moment, you had more pressing damage to control.

***

They were waiting for you, seated ramrod straight and still as you entered the conference room. From the back, the two officials were nearly indistinguishable. Glossy, black low ponytails with not a hair out of place greeted you. They sat eerily like statues carved from the same marble slate.

You groaned internally, wishing you hadn’t wasted so much time contemplating your fictional relationship with the Commander. You hated not being the first one to show up to these things. There was a lot of leverage to be gained out of welcoming your guests. It showed them who’s turf they were on, who was in charge.

You had a feeling this was not going to go well.

“Hello,” you greeted cheerfully, introducing yourself and crossing around the table. They each shook your hand as you offered it, informing you—in voices of indiscernible difference—that their names were officers Hollis and Shale . “So sorry I’m late, how was your flight in?”

The pair traded glances, identical faces pulled into the same terse smile. The one to your right, Hollis spoke first.

“Fine, thank you,” they clipped and pushed a file folder across the table to you.

“We’d like to get right down to business,” Shale responded with a nod to the documents.

“Of course,” you smiled politely—a far more believable act—and opened the file.

They both watched as you flipped through, reading a preposterously long list of demands. It was a thinly veiled scheme. You knew this tactic: they hoped you’d be more receptive to whatever they were really after once you got done denying every insane request they led with.

Amateurs.

Well, maybe you hadn’t lost the upper hand after all.

“So,” you responded after a few moments of thumbing through pages of bullshit, “what did you really come here to ask me for?”

The pair’s eyes twitched in unison.

“Pardon?”

“The Representatives couldn’t seriously have expected the First Order to comply with any of this.” You kept your face neutral and calm, shutting the folder and sliding it back across the table. “I mean, a personal apology from Commander Ren? You know as well as I do that will never happen.”

Their resolve was cracking, you could feel it and it lit something inside you. There was something so intoxicating about catching someone in a lie. It was times like these you remembered why you took this job. Why, occasionally, you loved it. Why you put up with stick-up-their-ass generals and stick-up-your-ass Commanders.

“Look,” you leaned forward, resting your chin on your joined hands, “let’s not play games. Just level with me, what does Coruscant really want?”

Your colleagues shared a look, Shale snatching up the files while Hollis leveled you with a disgruntled glare.

“Your other staff were much easier to deal with,” they sighed and leaned back in their chair.

You shrugged, “Well what’s the fun in that?”

Shale huffed and rolled her eyes, “Do you really want to play this straight?”

“I think that would be in everyone’s best interest.”

You really meant it would be in your best interest. Hux would have your head if you showed up late to a shift and this was already dragging on. But they certainly didn’t need to know that.

The two officers shared a look with twin sets of hazel eyes. Shale waved her hand to Hollis in a clear ‘get on with it’ gesture.

“The representatives might not seriously expect a personal apology from the Commander, but they do want one from you,” they said cooly. “And it needs to be on their grounds.”

You stared incredulously, but kept your mouth shut, and motioned for Hollis to elaborate.

“Representative Gahl is up for re-election soon, and he’d like for you to present an official First Order endorsement of his campaign when he makes the announcement next week.”

There was a moment of silence before you finally spoke.

“Excuse me?”

Shale flashed you a smile, “He wants the apology to be public as well.”

You did not return the look. “So what, he wants me to show up just to give him a nice ‘sorry’ and a send off?”

“Well, he’ll be attending multiple events leading up to the elections which you’d be expected to attend as well,” Shale explained.

It took an immense amount of self-restraint not to laugh at that. As if you’d ever be allowed time off for that long. Hux hadn’t even let you off the hook when you’d been shot during negotiations with those pirates on Corelia. And no matter how much ridicule you received, without you to control his damage, Kylo Ren would make just as much of a wreck of the base as he had of your psyche.

“And you expect the General to agree to this?”

Despite your best efforts, an embarrassingly smug smile creeped its way up your cheeks. Hollis merely matched your expression eye for eye, unnervingly sharp, white teeth peeking out at you.

“Well he did when we spoke this morning,” they said. “The First Order needs Coruscanti support on your new plan to mine resources in our sector.”

Shale began tucking away her files and spoke without looking up. “Why don’t you just confirm that now and get back to us.” Both officers stood, leaving you staring in silence until the door slid closed.

They were lying. They had to be.

Hux would have told you before you came in here if that was the case, would have wanted you to try and talk them down. Stars, your _staff_ at the very least would have mentioned it.

But it was also entirely possible that they hadn’t.

Would have assumed you knew, because why wouldn’t you know. And why would Hollis or Shale lie? What benefit did that give them? No, no you’d just been had and now you were going to pay the price for your pride.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to do first. Jumping out the airlock seemed the most appealing option, and kicking the table leg until your bones shattered came in at a close second. Eventually you settled on mentally berating officers Hellish and Shit while you rushed to the Bridge.

Hux was nowhere to be found when you burst in, earning yourself more than a few dirty looks for the disruption. You grimaced internally. Of course you were late. Why not when you’ve already made a fool of yourself this morning—might as well ruin this too. You’d say it probably couldn’t get any worse, but at this point, you knew better. And since the General was nowhere to be seen here, he had to be in his office, so you trudged off again down the hall.

The door opened before you’d even buzzed the intercom. You cautiously stepped inside, and looked around briefly. You’d only been in the Hux’s office once or twice before and neither were pleasant occasions. The room and the man were one and the same. Immaculately clean—though in an off putting, artificial sense—and chillingly cold. So much so that your breath caused little wisps of condensation to drift from your mouth when you spoke.

“Good morning, General.”

Hux didn’t bother to look up from his datapad. He did, however, take the time to sip his tea in which you counted at least five bundles steeping.

“I understand you handled the situation with that Coruscanti Representative,” he said after setting down his mug and scanning a few more lines on the screen.

“Well,” you started, “I met with two officers from the embassy this morning.”

“And?”

He spared you glance then, a quick once over then back to his screen. Never once making eye contact, just so you knew how unimportant this was to him.

You hated when he did that. Now, you much preferred dealing with Hux than any of the other officials—he was systematic and in that way, also predictable. Yes, the General was ruthless in both business and warfare but it was a methodical cruelty, one you could map, could graph and chart and understand. Which made his not so suitable micro-aggressions all the more infuriating.

Because you knew what he was doing. And he had to know by now that you had caught on, would never have promoted you if he thought you were that easily tricked. It worked though. You certainly wanted to leave just as bad as he wanted you gone.

“They’ve requested I speak at the campaign events on Coruscant for Ambassador Gahl’s re-election, formally endorse him and apologize publicly for Commander Ren’s behavior at their last meeting,” you repeated, watching intently for any amount of shock on Hux’s face.

But it never came.

He started taping out a message instead, fingers barely making a sound on the pad. It was almost a minute before he answered you.

“I suppose you’ll need a transport arranged then.”

“That’s it!?”

The General did look a bit shocked at that before shifting to simply glare at you over the monitor. You shivered involuntarily and found the rivets on the floor suddenly much more interesting than your conversation.

“Well, officer, did you expect to walk all the way to Coruscant?”

You cleared your throat. “To be frank with you, sir, I wasn’t expecting to go at all.”

Hux sighed briefly, and you looked up just in time to see him run a hand through his pristinely set hair. It was a disturbingly human gesture and watching it left you with an uncomfortable sense of unease. As though you had seen something you were never meant to and had to hold the secret of it behind your ribs forever.

Those in the First Order were, above all, inhuman. Any amount of perceived normalcy was always performative and this knowledge was how you’d climbed the ranks to stand here today. There was something very disquieting about this, admittedly minuscule, break in character.

You watched his nails separate the gelled strands, great ravines being formed and filled again. Hux’s shoulders broke their permanent ninety degree angles just for a second, and lines were clear in the creases of his pale forehead. Everything about this split second, barely there moment, felt so incredibly wrong to you.

You supposed that was because of its reality. Supposed you felt the need to grasp and cling to this—just as you had done this morning to your idealized Kylo Ren—because that was your weakness. And you supposed if you’d retained the ability to feel ashamed, you would now. How desperate had you become for the acknowledgement of your personhood that such a small glimpse of it in someone else could destroy your resolve. Make you pliant and breakable.

If this was just another tactic, you’d have to commend the General on cracking you so easily.

This time, he looked at you when he spoke.

“I’m well aware of the disruption this will cause, but we’ve been caught and now amendments must be made,” he paused, sitting up straighter in his chair. “While it may seem like we’re losing ground, we stand to gain twice as much, so you will go and do whatever it takes to get the First Order back in good graces because it's your duty and I’m ordering it.”

The General’s tone was not as forceful as you were accustomed to, which was probably why you felt the need to respond with a disgraceful amount of honesty.

“Sir, why didn’t you tell me before that you’d already approved it? I made a fool of myself in that meeting.”

Hux merely stared at you for a moment, before turning back to his screen in dismissal. “Had you not forgotten the importance of punctuality, you would have received your briefing on the matter, officer.”

Truly it was amazing how these people could continue to play you like this.

“Yes sir,” you sighed quietly and turned to go.

The doors slid closed the moment your feet crossed their threshold and you were left to stand alone in the empty hallway. Feeling tired and foolish, you made the short trip towards your staff offices. At least you could reassign some of that paperwork you’d never finished. If you were going to waste weeks making speeches on Coruscant, you certainly weren’t bringing any of it with you.

Everyone was scurrying around like mouse droids when you entered. The room was nothing more than a few rows of identical desks and a coffee pot in the corner, but it always felt a bit nostalgic coming back here—a ‘where it all began’ type of feeling. Not now though, now you wanted nothing more than to never look at another grey wall or stack of papers ever again.

You could have been a pilot, living everyday like it was your last, like it was a thrill just to be alive. Or an engineer and never have to deal with the horrid unpredictability of human variables ever again. But no. You’d chosen this, stuck one foot in the grave and convinced yourself you were taking a step out.

There was a mixture of greetings called out as you plopped down on an empty desktop and motioned for the juniors to gather around you.

“Alright, listen up,” you began, staring down at all the faces rapt with attention. “As you may know, I will be traveling to Coruscant for an indeterminate amount of time for reasons far above your clearance level. You’ll all have to divvy up my remaining responsibilities amongst yourselves while I’m gone, so we don’t fall behind.”

There was a chorus of ‘yes ma’am’’s and you waited for them to peter out before continuing.

“Shun is your team leader, so he’ll be in charge of the day-to-day responsibilities until I return.” Shun nodded to you and received more than a few dirty looks from his peers. “Are there any questions?”

You let the silence hang for a few seconds before pushing off the desk. “Oh and someone needs to send an update to Commander Ren so he knows his outburst has been taken care of.”

With no further comments, you dismissed the group back to their work. But before you could make it out the door, one of the staff blocked your path. Her name was Hana—or maybe Sara—it was something simple although you could never remember it.

She smiled widely when she spoke—too large and too sweetly. It was a truly poor attempt and painful to watch. “Sorry to bother you ma’am, I just wanted to say I think it's so amazing you get to do this.”

You thanked her and tried to return the expression but it came out too strangled. It wasn’t worth pretending anyway, though she didn’t seem deterred.

“It's just, you're so talented, especially to be working with the Commander,” she gushed and you nearly gagged from the false perfumery of it.

“Yes, well, it isn’t nearly as glamorous as you seem to think,” you clipped and took another step towards the door.

“Really, it doesn’t—”

“Look,” You cut her off, too exhausted to indulge in her lame excuse for stroking your ego. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t get you anywhere. I don’t know why you thought I’d be stupid enough to be convinced by that piss poor attempt at flattery, but let me give you a piece of advice. You don’t talk your way up, you earn it.”

You could feel the others eyes on you, feel their pleasure at Hana’s/Sara’s expense and it disgusted you. They were like rats eating each other, feasting on the misfortune or failure of everyone around them. You’d been like that too once, but you’d come out on top. Gorging yourself on the flesh of those who couldn’t keep up and you’d won. And, though it made you sick, you understood it. Pride was a disease and it infected all of you. You’d been reminded of that this morning and suffered for it.

You turned your back on her and headed out the door, but paused one last time before throwing her to the gnashing teeth of her coworkers.

“Pick something more believable next time,” you narrowed your gaze. “Everyone knows the Commander is a massive dick.”

With that, you marched out into the hall and back towards your quarters. You’d be leaving before the end of the week, so might as well get some of the packing out of the way. You did your best not to think about the look on Hana/Sara’s face—the dismay in her brow and the anger in the pull of her cheeks. You’d seen it many times, worn it yourself, and couldn’t handle the burden of creating it as well.

It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t yours either, but it felt that way. It was like you always said, those in the First Order were, above all, inhuman, and it appeared you were not exempt from that. You were nothing more than another dead star shining false light.

Your quarters were exactly as you’d left them. Uniform pieces still littered the floor, papers were scattered on the small desk, and the sheets were ripped from the end of your bunk. The closet loomed from the corner but you didn’t have the energy to look at it. Instead you plopped down onto the tangle of bed clothes and buried your face in them, inhaling the scent of industrial detergent.

You knew if you closed your eyes, you would fall asleep. And if you fell asleep you would dream. And if you dreamt.

You’d escape.

So if you let your eyes blink shut for awhile and let yourself drift off, it wasn’t because you wanted comfort, or to forget. Of course not. You were simply tired, had a long day and deserved some rest.

You were not expecting or, Maker forbid, hoping to find Kylo there. Not the Commander, but someone softer, more existent.

More human.

No, that was not it at all.

***

_You were in a small room when your eyes opened again. The walls were black from floor to ceiling and the air frigid even through your uniform. Beside you a large bed stretched out endlessly, covered in dark silky sheets. They felt warm and familiar when you ran your hand across them._

_Confused for a moment, you stood still in the middle of what was most certainly a bedroom. It was clearly First Order architecture, although you’d never been here before. Frowning, you walked towards the door and found what you had (not) come here for._

_He was in the sitting room. There were two small armchairs and a couch, all in matching dark fabric. And there, in the center cushion sat Kylo Ren—leaning over with head in his hands. The only light in the room was the glow of a datapad, inbox box still queued up, discarded on the coffee table. For just a moment, he seemed not to notice you._

_So you watched, a voyeur to this display of actuality._

_His pale fingers stood out like tombstones against the black of his hair, delicate waves obscuring everything but the prominent bridge of his nose. You could see the ripples of tension in his back and shoulders. His chest shook almost imperceptibly with each breath._

_You felt a tightness rising in you, something hard and not your own that pinned your ribs and shook in the tips of your fingers. The feeling of it, foreign in the air and pervading the room, burned in your lungs and caused little tears to well up against the onslaught. Never before had you felt something so acutely and yet known it was not yours._

_A deep ache was forming somewhere in all your hollow spaces—confusing and painful and raw._

_All at once, you were consumed with the need to soothe it, stroke and caress and take it away, this pain that wasn’t yours but writhed under your skin nonetheless._

_It was suffocating._

_It was desperate._

_And, needless to say, you understood it._

_So you took another step forward, and, like a leaf dropping into a still pond, the silent stillness was broken. Kylo’s head snapped to the side, hand grabbing instinctively for the saber at his waist, but froze when his eyes caught you._

_He stared, bewildered, still wound like a predator preparing to strike. Your eyes never left his as you took one step, then another, making no sound on the durasteel floor, until you stood right between his spread legs._

_Slowly, carefully, you brought up a hand, watched his eyes flick between it and your face before tucking a stray lock of hair behind his endearingly large ear. Your whole body throbbed at the gesture, the need—that wasn’t yours but was all the same—to feel skin against your palm. To be acknowledged in the way that only comes with receiving warmth from another living body._

_You gazed into Kylo’s face, and saw the permission you’d been waiting for, accepting the reigns placed into your grip. Gently you bent, and shuffled onto the couch so you could straddle his lap, thighs on either side of hips._

_His face fit perfectly in your hands, the contour of his jaw matching like a puzzle piece in the ley lines of your palm. And you let your forehead come to rest against his, felt the slick of sweat from his helmet and the baby hairs at the crown of his head._

_Quietly, you tried to wrest away the dark, oppressive cloud that hung above you. Tried to urge him to pull from you whatever he needed. While neither of you spoke, you felt his hands settle on your waist—as they had so many times before—but now it was not for your benefit and so there was a hesitation in his fingers._

_And, inexplicably, abstrusely, you were filled by it—a chuckle bubbling up in your throat at the thought of uncertainty existing in the man before you. It seemed that with every layer you peeled away, another complexity was revealed to you. Another small piece of evidence that Kylo Ren was, indeed, a person. That beneath his mask was a handsome face with eyes that saw and a mouth that spoke and kissed and skin dotted with freckles and scars._

_And while you’d have to face the horribly disappointing reality that all of this was simply the fabrication of a mind consumed by extraordinary loneliness, you would not think of that now._

_Closing your eyes, you nudged his nose with yours—once, twice—until he tilted his head just enough for you to press your lips together._

_It was, at first, just a slow fitting together of parts. But as you took his plush, bottom lip between your teeth, Kylo seemed to gain confidence, tracing the seam of your mouth with his tongue. He delved inside, the taste of him washing over you—standard-grade toothpaste and wet heat. It only spurred you on, letting your arms wind around his neck and pushing closer so that your breasts brushed against his chest._

_His cock was stiffening beneath you, the hard length of it pressing against your thigh. You wanted to see it, see him as he’d seen you: exposed and longing. Wanted what you’d been denied before._

_You’d always been a strong believer of returning the favor after all._

_Kylo’s grip tightened on your hips as you began to maneuver yourself off his lap but he stilled when you ground yourself down on him, groaning into your mouth at the added friction. You pulled away, transfixed momentarily by the way his lovely crooked teeth poked out behind red, swollen lips._

_“Let me,” you whispered, diving down to kiss at his throat, searching for the spot that would earn you another of his beautiful, needy gasps._

_“You don’t-” he started, but was choked on the rest of his words when you bit down on the joining of his neck and shoulder._

_He growled as you laved your tongue over the spot of worried flesh before pulling back, and dropping to your knees in front of him._

_“I want too.”_

_That seemed to be all he needed, hand already fumbling with the buckle of his belt. You reached up, helping to slide his trousers down, letting his cock spring free. It laid heavy and thick against his thigh. You swallowed instinctively at the size of it._

_Yes, very proportional._

_You took him in your hand, trailing your thumb along one of the thick veins and watching a bead of precum drip down his pulsing head. The sound he made was molten in your ears, made you slick between your thighs and eager to taste him. You stroked him lazily, up and down, your fingers barely able to wrap around his girth._

_Kylo bucked into your fist, and you looked up to see his head lolling back to rest on the edge of the couch. It was a thrilling sight, the perfect angle of his throat—splotched red with lust that reached all the way to the tips of his ears. You never wanted to forget it, never wanted to look away._

_But he was so warm in your hand and you couldn’t resist any longer._

_You could feel the shudder than ran through him when you licked your first long stripe from root to tip. There was a neatly trimmed patch of course, dark hair at the base of his cock and you nuzzled into it for just a moment. You breathed in the musky but pleasant scent of him, thumb flicking over the tip. Your mouth watered as you finally, finally took him inside._

_Kylo’s hand went immediately to your hair, gripping tightly at the back of your head. You let him, let him guide his dick down your throat. Only halfway on the first stroke, but working himself deeper inch by inch into the warm, pliant wetness behind your lips. You relaxed your jaw, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue over the head of his cock on every upstroke._

_Above you, Kylo was breathing heavily, groaning as you swallowed around his length. The hand in your hair forced your head down farther, holding you still as he fucked up into your mouth._

_“Gods,” he rasped, voice cracking. “Good girl.”_

_A slew of curses in languages you’ve never heard spill from his gorgeous lips, and you try not to gag as his cock hits the back of your throat. Spit dripped in streams from between your lips, leaving wet splotches all over your uniform front. The room was filled with the wonderfully filthy sounds of Kylo fucking your mouth._

_No longer able to ignore the growing heat between your legs, you slipped a hand down the front of your pants, fingers just barely making a circle around your clit before Kylo wrenched them away._

_“Behave,” he growled, and you whined against his cock._

_He forced you down harder, tears spilling down your cheeks from the uncomfortable size of him. Kylo was close, you could feel it in the way he pulsed on your tongue. You wanted to stroke his thighs, feel the tight cords of muscle but some unseen hand had pinned your wrists behind your back._

_“Do you want to taste my cum?”_

_His voice was nearly enough to satisfy the ache in your pussy. You tried to nod by way of answer, gasping for breath when he let you pull off for just a second._

_“Say it,” Kylo demanded, his hair frizzing in the heat from your bodies._

_Stars, you would never get over how handsome he looked, even completely debauched pants halfway down his legs and cock red with desire._

_“I want you to cum in my mouth,” you gasped and, fuck you did._

_You didn’t bother to wait for him, taking him fully down your throat once again. He cried out, and you hummed around him. You were completely entranced, knowing you need to breathe but unwilling to pull away. He moaned, low and long and it was beautiful and real and because of you. You took him deeper, faster, meeting his thrusts and you felt his pace stutter._

_That was all the warning you got before he was spilling onto your tongue. And he tasted heavenly, the slippery salt flavor of his cum coated your mouth as you swallowed him down, milking out his orgasm as long as you could. You only pulled away when you absolutely had to, the wet pop of it resounding in the room._

_Kylo’s hand was still in your hair—holding you down—when, among the unintelligible swears and sobs, your name dripped out of his mouth._

_And the spell of manufactured intimacy broke._

_It made you pause, made you pull back, and you took him in._

_Face flushed, eyes black with desire and something else and the room went soft around you. Because you didn’t think he knew your name, not your real name, the private one that no one ever used anymore._

_And you knew—you really did—that it was just a dream, that he was nothing more than a fictional concoction of your own making, so why wouldn’t he?_

_But hearing it, shaped by his teeth and tongue, flooded you once more with an odd and horrible despair. It had been years, years and years since anyone had called you that—not as part of your whole title, but on its own._

_Kylo regarded you silently, cock still hard and weeping, as the air around you thickened with this realization. A wicked potential formed, swirling in the look you shared, and you needed. What exactly you weren’t sure, but it was urgent and burning and unquenchable._

_“Come here.”_

_His voice was deep and commanding. You were both at the precipice of something and you knew if you listened, you’d tumble over the edge. So you reached out, standing slowly on shaky, sore legs, helped along by impatient hands that gripped and pulled until you were lying, prone next to him on the cushions._

_He grabbed the waistband of your pants and tugged them sharply down your thighs. They fell crumpled to the floor and Kylo lifted you easily back into his lap. You were in awe of the strength it must have taken to lift you like a rag doll into his arms, but then his lips were on your neck and you thought of little else but the immediate desire to have him fully inside you._

_He sucked and nipped at your pulse, one hand coming up to wrap loosely around your throat, holding your face still as he pulled back to look at you._

_He was close enough you could see the faint flecks of gold in his eyes as he pressed his silent question into your willing flesh. His still hard cock nearly burned as he rocked up into you, coating himself in your slick. Your pussy throbbed and clenched at the thought of taking him, all of him. And you melted, so softened by your own incessant weakness for displays of humanity that you would have given him anything he asked of you, and done so happily._

_“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, lining himself up at your soaked entrance._

_You opened your mouth to whisper that you wanted him. Wanted to ride him, feel every ridge of his massive cock inside you. Wanted him to ruin you, cum inside you, make you his. But your response was drowned out by_ the sound of a fist on durasteel. The muffled sound of someone was calling for you pervaded the room and ripped you from Kylo’s grasp.

_“I’m sorry,” you breathed, but you weren’t sure what you meant by it._

_He was saying something but you couldn’t hear it anymore, only see the feral look in his eyes as the heat of his bare skin under you faded away and you_ woke, cold and alone in your bunk. On the other side of the door, one of Hux’s aide’s was rambling frantically about some pressing logistical issue that only you could fix.

Shuddering, you curled in on yourself, waiting for whoever was outside to give up and look for you elsewhere. Unwilling to face whatever inconvenient reality waited for you outside.

Feeling confused and cheated and somehow even more exhausted than when you’d fallen asleep, you stared blankly up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the wetness dripping down your thighs.

‘I’m sorry.’ That’s what you’d said, but you didn’t know what you were sorry for.

Sorry you couldn’t fuck him like he’d so obviously wanted? Sorry because you didn’t want him to think you hadn’t wanted it too? Or were you sorry for whatever had plagued him, made him pull at his hair and tremble and need you to help him forget?

Whatever it was that you were so desperately sorry for, it ate away at you, widening the edges of the lonely cavern in your chest. You yearned for Kylo Ren to appear again, to hold you and pull you apart with his fingers. The feeling sat heavy on your chest and filled you with terrible foreboding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I cockblocked you guys I'm sorry....if it's any consolation, I cockblocked myself too soooo. Anway, I hope you liked it! And if you did please leave a comment or visit me on tumblr (@star-killer-md), it means so, so much to me when y'all interact. I was overwhelmed by the amazing response on my first update so there's a lot more to come from this. I love you all <<<333


	3. Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're finally on your way to Coruscant, happy to be free of Commander Ren for a little while. But, of course, nothing ever goes as planned. Because it's you, and honestly why would it?

Time is a funny thing.

You’d never really given the subject much thought before, but mulling it over now, you found it mind boggling to conceptualize how such small decisions—which people to talk to in the break room and what route to take to the mess hall every day—could have momentous effects on your future.

For instance, you wouldn’t have your current position if not for a slew of seemingly mundane choices which led you to exist at exactly the right time and place.

Before your time on the _Finalizer_ —-before you’d garnered the attention of some of the highest ranking individuals in the First Order—you were nothing more than a personal aide to the officer in charge of your small space station in the outer rim.

You were, effectively, no one.

But then a junior negotiations position opened up on the _Finalizer_ and everything changed.

Your status as a candidate for reassignment was only because you were one of the few people who’d chosen to be trained in mediation and diplomacy. Not many people at the Academy were interested in that. You hadn’t been at the time either, it was just to fulfill requirements, but that outwardly meaningless choice was what sparked the fires of your future career.

Then the previous senior negotiator just happened to have been killed during a job on some backwater planet the week before you were approved for transfer.

It was pretty brutal actually, shot dead in the back while walking away from the meeting table. You’d gone back to read the incident report after being hired on to take his job. Your transfer had nothing to do with his death, but you benefited from it nonetheless, as immoral as it might have been.

Most things in the First Order came stained with blood.

You recalled little more of your first day other than the sheer intensity of it. The Resurgent-class Star Destroyer was massive and far more important than where you were stationed at prior. You had been so afraid of getting lost that you’d shown up an hour before your first assignment on the command Bridge. Not knowing where else to go and far too awkward to walk in and immediately leave, you’d positioned yourself in the hall near Hux's office to wait.

It was these exact circumstances which caused you to be present for the—now infamous—fight between the General and Commander Ren. That particular side path was still blocked off to this day, the damages too great for even the most talented maintenance crews to fix.

It was the first time you’d ever seen anyone that high ranking, although the intrigue was offset a bit by the juvenile nature of their argument. Something about a failed mission, important intelligence lost, pissed off diplomats, run of the mill stuff to you now.

You still remembered the crackle of Ren’s saber, the way it threw sparks and thrummed, a living, violent creature in his black leather hand. You could still see it glinting off his helmet, bathing the room in lightning strike red before it sliced a hole straight through the durasteel wall beside Hux’s head.

You recalled how breathtaking he looked. Back then, before you were hardened to it—filled with rage and disgust by your position—you’d thought he was magnificent. There were always stories, but you found they did him no justice. Could never have conveyed the truth of his fierceness.

In any case, you’d been the sole witness, the only one who’d ever seen the General _cower_. And that made you memorable, made you important. And you knew it. You were smart, had to be, so you kept your mouth shut. Kept going about your business, and the mysterious details of the fight between two highest ranking men on the ship never got out.

And if Hux noticed and just so happened to afford you some modicum of favor—dare you say trust—for your discretion, well, you’d never tell. And if you used this leverage to drag your way into the running for a conveniently open senior position, then that was your right.

Really the whole point was that if you hadn’t needed an extra class to take, hadn’t been so petrified of being late on your first day, you very likely would have remained just another expendable assistant. So, you couldn’t help but think of what other seemingly unimportant choices had played massive roles in the way things turned out.

More specifically you were wondering what exactly you’d done to end up here: in a shuttle headed to Coruscant, completely alone except for Kylo Ren in the pilot's seat.

He was silent, and cut a striking figure guiding the ship smoothly on its course, out of the _Finalizer’s_ docking bay and into blank space. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other since you’d walked on board to find him there waiting.

You shouldn’t have been as shocked as you were considering your flight info had updated hours prior, listing Commander Ren in stark black text on the passengers list. All the other staff had been removed, and you’d stared at the listing for a long time, unsettled by your name printed below his. It reminded you of certain events you’d rather not think about in his presence.

The last time you’d run into him, the Commander had not seemed happy to see you either, so his sudden decision to accompany you to Coruscant—to ‘aid negotiations’ he’d said—was odd to say the least.

You’d caught him on the Bridge then, on your way to drop off the paperwork from your quarters to the junior staff. He looked like he’d run there when he marched onto the suspended walkway. His cowl was askew, shirt not quite tucked into the thick belt he always wore—you’d never seen him in such a state.

Well, you’d never seen it in real life, that is.

The sight of him—disheveled, gaze wildly darting from behind the visor of his helmet—only conjured uncomfortable images from the dream you’d woken from not long before. It hadn’t been more than an hour since you’d nearly begged for him to sink his cock into you, since you’d wanted nothing more than to feel him buried to the hilt and cumming inside you, since he’d moaned for you and spoken your name and looked at you—really looked at you like you meant something.

You still felt the awful sting of guilt then, for leaving too soon. Something deeper than you cared to admit had run through you in the moment you’d welcomed him freely into your body, craved and needed him there. So, when you’d caught sight of him then, no soft brown eyes or pink lips that pulled pleasure from your flesh, something in you curdled, rotted.

His eyes had found you, among the mass of officers. You froze, overcome with the reminder that for all your emotional struggle, being involved in any way with the Commander was nothing more than a pipedream.

You hadn’t felt that type of closeness with another person in ages, and probably never would again.

It was a good thing, you had thought then, a blessing in disguise that you would be occupied on Coruscant for so long. At least you could get away from him for a while, put some distance between yourself and the uncomfortable tightness in your chest you felt at the sight of him. The impossibility.

From across the Bridge, Ren paused, had shifted and you got the distinct impression that he was angry with you. For what, you couldn’t be sure, and your suspicions were confirmed when the stack of papers in your hands were mysteriously sent flying into the air by an invisible hand.

By the time you’d finally retrieved them all, the Commander had disappeared.

And now, in the silent cockpit, you felt his annoyance even more acutely. The source of this personal vendetta he seemed to have against you remained insoluble, and you were nearing the end of your rope.

“Sir, I won’t pretend to know why you’ve decided to take part in this assignment, but I’d like to set some things straight before we arrive.” You kept your voice level and only glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

A light flashed on the console, and Ren flicked two switches above his head. He had to be actively trying to ignore you at this point, so you pressed on.

“I’d respectfully ask that you stay out of sight as much as possible, and please refrain from speaking to anyone unless absolutely necessary,” you continued, swiveling in your seat to face him. “If you simply let me handle things and don’t intervene, everything will go smoothly.”

A slight tightening of his grip on the controls was all the acknowledgment you got.

“And this goes without saying,” you urged him with your eyes to give you some sign he was listening, “but please, sir, do not threaten anyone important.”

The last thing you wanted was a bloodbath on your hands. Up until now, you’d maintained a great track record of massacre-less conciliations—better than anyone prior senior negotiator under General Hux. Like hell you were going to let all that effort go down the drain because the Commander decided to throw a tantrum.

Grumbling a little more than was strictly necessary, you added, “That is what started this mess in the first place.”

It appeared you’d tiptoed over the line with that comment—that or he was just sick of hearing your voice—because the next time you tried to speak, your mouth stayed firmly shut. Trying and failing to forcibly wrench your jaw open, you shot a venomous glare in his direction.

This finally seemed to eat through his stony exterior, as he turned and regarded you from behind his mask.

“Did you say something, officer?” he asked, tone enragingly innocent.

His voice sounded strange and distorted through the vocoder. It grated through your ears and hung unnaturally in the air. Unable to answer and unwilling to completely embarrass yourself you shifted away from him, crossing your arms and staring resolutely into the empty void of space.

You thought maybe, under different circumstances, you’d find it beautiful.

It wasn’t often your job called you off the _Finalizer_ , so it wasn’t often you ever got to experience a view like this, uninterrupted by work. Normally on a trip like this, you’d sequester yourself away in the passengers seating and press your face to one of the view ports. You knew it was foolishly romantic and childish, but seeing all the stars and passing planets made you feel a bit more whole. A bit more part of something.

Other people were out there, existing and loving, creating and destroying, lonely and together, and just as small as you. You always walked a little lighter after that. But the room was clouded and heady, air thick with something spiteful. It coated your mouth thickly and left behind a sour taste.

So, instead you wallowed in the unpleasantness of it all. And why shouldn’t you? Ren had started it.

Absolute bastard, you thought as loudly as possible.

Throwing the phrase in the Commander’s general direction as hard as you could. You had no idea if he would hear it, would never claim to understand the Force and all its inner workings and complexity. He’d never responded to your mental diatribes before.

And maybe that was why you didn’t bother trying to control it. After all, even if he had the ability to listen in, why would he bother playing audience to your tirade? Ren had at least been transparent with the fact that he was completely apathetic to what you had to say. It seemed as though a dam had broken, and the thoughts poured out of you.

_What have I ever done to you?_

_What have I done to make you hate me so thoroughly?_

You let them flow. Let them drain out of you. You screamed into the dark, cavernous hole inside yourself and let it echo. Every frustrated, hopeless question was swallowed up and spat back out into the short distance between your seats. He didn’t give you an inch, not even a single twitch of his fingers to show he heard you and that only spurred you on.

 _What would it take_ , you thought, giving the words time to permeate, _for you to be satisfied?_

Out of the viewport, you could see the looming form of Coruscant approaching. The lights across its surface filled the glass and replaced the stars. The Commander eased the ship forward. Had you not been so infuriated, you might have noticed that the ship barely shook at all when it entered the planet's atmosphere.

Thankfully he also seemed to know where you were meant to land as you were currently incapable of offering any verbal directions.

You watched as Ren effortlessly landed the shuttle in the Federal District’s docking bay. The second it settled into place, you were on your feet. Behind you, the Commander was flicking more switches and keys on the control board, killing the power and lowering the gangway. In the doorway of the cockpit, you paused, voice still frozen in your throat.

_Why can’t you just tell me what you want from me?_

You hadn’t actually meant to direct that at him, it was one of those thoughts that involuntarily popped into your head on occasion. But it was too late to take it back. His reaction was immediate and intense. Helmet snapping in your direction, he crossed the short distance between you in two strides.

It was in the minuscule span of a seconds before he reached you—before his hand was slamming into the wall next to your head, before the dark expanse of his chest was crowding your vision, before all you could hear was the shaky, static of his breath—that you realized your potential miscalculation.

Because he definitely heard that.

You jumped when the impact of his fist with the durasteel rang out through the small room. He towered over you, trapping your body against the door frame. The hard vent of his saber pressed harshly into your thigh. You thought distantly of your first day on the _Finalizer_. The eerie red glow, the melting mass of destroyed metal left behind.

But he didn’t reach for the weapon. Instead he stared at you from behind the narrow visor of his helmet. There was an odd pressure at your temples, like the beginning twinges of a migraine. You were overcome with a feeling of deep seated dread, a strange base instinctual sense that you were being laid bare. He was searching for something, you were sure of it, could see it in the slight movement of his head. For what exactly, you didn’t know, but you were certain you didn’t want him to find it.

Didn’t want him to know the last time you’d heard that phrase.

Instead you focused on taking slow even breaths. Counted the seconds before letting the air rush past your lips. Seemingly unable to discern whatever evidence of treason he was searching for, Ren pushed off the wall and brushed past you towards the exit.

“Watch your mouth, officer,” his voice echoed through the bones of the ship. “This will be your only warning.”

Your face burned uncomfortably as you watched him disappear down the gangway. Gathering your bags, you readied yourself to follow, trying not to think of the muted disappointment you’d caught in Ren’s parting words.

When you finally left the ship, the Commander was nowhere to be seen. Instead you were greeted by two overly cheerful embassy staffers who lead you to the room you’d be occupying during your stay. They walked you down extravagantly complicated hallways, passing dozens of identical doors. Yours was part way down one such hall, conveniently close to the elevators. Once the two employees had unlocked the door you bid them a quick farewell.

“Oh!” one of them called just before you got the door shut, “There’s to be a dinner in the banquet hall tonight you’ll be expected to attend.”

“Of course,” you replied shortly with a nod.

You didn’t mention the fact that you had not come here alone. The less they knew, the better. He could sleep on the ship for all you cared. If he slept, that is. For some reason that thought didn’t sit right with you. It was strange to imagine the Commander you knew ever sleeping. It seemed too human an action.

Kylo slept, though, that you were sure of.

“There’s information and your key card on the table,” she said, and turned to leave.

You watched them go from the doorway until the hall was empty and you retreated into your suite. It was very nice, you’d give them that at least. A single, large bed sat next to the window and the rest of the room was furnished with a small table and chairs along with a cushy sofa. All the pieces were in neutral, earthy tones which was a lovely reprieve from the harsh blacks, whites, and reds of the First Order’s ships.

In the corner by the bed, your bags sat, stacked neatly with two garment bags laying across the comforter. You glanced on the table, finding your room key and the note. It informed you that the event was beginning in a little over four hours from now and that you would need to wear something nicer than your professional attire.

That was fine, you’d come prepared for weeks of fancy clothing and pretty lies.

But you were tired now, and would have a long night ahead of you. Might as well get some rest while you still could. So you stripped off your boots, jacket and button-up, leaving on only a thin undershirt and uniform slacks. The sheets here were softer than the ones in your quarters, the mattress didn’t push uncomfortably into your spine. You closed your eyes.

Part of you hoped you wouldn’t dream.

The other part knew that was a lie.

***

_There was a mouth on yours before you could even open your eyes._

_It was him. Because of course it was. Because it would never be anyone else._

_You found yourself thinking that you’d know these lips anywhere. It had only been a handful of times that you’d felt the way they pressed and slid against yours—the most pleasing sensation in existence—but even with galaxies and years in between, you’d know them._

_“Kylo?” you whispered into his mouth._

_You hoped maybe he’d say your name too, but he didn’t._

_“You don’t deserve that,” he said, his voice ragged._

_Instead there is a sharp bite on your lower lip, his crooked teeth breaking the flesh and sucking it harshly into his mouth. You gasped and he took advantage of your parted lips to taste you. It was dominating in a way you were not accustomed to, but your hands still grasped blindly for his hair, sinking in and holding him to you._

_Something unseen tugged at your wrists, slamming them suddenly into the mattress above your head. You felt Kylo shift, and opened your eyes to take him in._

_His face was wild in a way you’d never seen before. You imagined this must be how he looked right before he attacked, brought fury down on his target in a surge of blinding red._

_It was terrifying._

_You loved it._

_His scowl merely deepened, cutting a harsh line across his handsome face. He was straddling your hips, massive thighs making you seem so small in comparison. The thick, padded shirt and belt he wore brushed against the gap of exposed skin by your waistband. You wished he wasn’t always so concealed from you with all his lovely marked skin hidden from view._

_Kylo huffed, placing a leather covered hand so that his thumb rested in the gentle v of your collarbone._

_“If you want something,” he pressed down into your throat, “say it.”_

_That was always a loaded statement. You wanted so much and had so few words to communicate it all. He’d been reading your mind this whole time—was nothing more than a fabrication of it himself—couldn’t he just figure it out?_

_Something was ghosting its way across your stomach and chest under the thin shirt you wore. It latched onto your nipples, twisting and pulling them into hard peaks against the fabric. You wanted to squirm, but he held you in place._

_“No,” he growled, and you shivered. “You’re going to ask for it like the shameless little whore you are.”_

_Well that was new._

_Up until now, you’d found it entirely possible to resist any of Kylo’s wishes. Not when he was so warm and soft around the edges. Not when his pretty hair fell in his face and you just had to tuck it back behind his ears._

_But you’d always had a bit of an issue with authority, and didn’t respond well to harsh uses of it._

_You narrowed your eyes, letting them drift slowly down his wall of a chest until they settled on the impressive tent forming in the tight fabric of his pants. Pursing your lips, you met his gaze head on._

_“Who are you calling a whore?”_

_The second the words left your mouth, you knew it you made a mistake. Although, it was almost certainly worth the split second of pure, unadulterated shock on Kylo’s face. It was not an expression you’d ever expected to see, but it suited him. The slight parting of his lips, the dying blush across his cheeks, the pinch of his brows—perfection, truly._

_You didn’t get long to admire it._

_It wasn’t a roar that left his mouth, but that was the closest you could come to describing it. In a flash, there was a sharp burn at the back of your neck as your shirt ripped clean down the middle. Its tattered edges fell open, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room._

_You yelped, breath catching in your throat. The cups of your regulation bra dug uncomfortably into the soft flesh there as you tried and failed to escape from under him._

_“I thought I told you to watch your mouth,” he hissed._

_You paused at that, remembering the last time you’d heard him say that. On the ship, not long ago. He had you pinned then too. But that was Commander Ren, not the man who couldn’t stop flicking his gaze between the swell of your chest to your lips to your eyes and back again._

_“Fine,” you conceded, sealing your lips._

_Kylo’s jaw twitched, his gloved fingers drifted down to toy with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You arched your back into his touch, listening intently to his sharp exhale as you did. His other hand smoothed over the soft skin of your neck, pausing to rub circles over the dip where your shoulder began. He seemed to appraise it, before lowering himself over you, resting on his elbows._

_His leg nudged yours apart so he could settle on the bed between them, face so close that you could see even the smallest of his freckles. You quickly found your favorite of them, placed perfectly above his lips on the left just below his nose. You wanted to kiss it._

_He looked away._

_Kylo dropped his head to your shoulder, plush lips painting wet stripes across your throat. They replaced his thumb on your neck, the spot already turning red from his attention. You sighed when he sucked on it, the little gap between his front teeth catching on your skin._

_Warmth was pooling between your thighs, your cunt slick and pulsing. You bucked your hips up into him and he bit down, worrying a dark, purple bruise into the delicate flesh. The invisible bonds on your wrist were becoming increasingly annoying as you fought to be able to touch him back._

_“Tell me,” Kylo murmured in between laving his tongue over the impressions of his teeth._

_He ground his clothed dick down into you, the tip teasingly pressing at your slit. You thought of how warm he felt before, when there was no fabric between you and you’d wanted to be filled to the brim with him. If the universe insisted on attempting to rip you apart at every turn, you thought this had to be the most delicious way to go. Rended apart by Kylo Ren’s massive cock, basking in the pleasure of his magnificent groans above you._

_But he wasn’t asking. This was an order, and you had so little power in your real life, like hell you’d give him an inch here._

_So you shook your head, mouth resolutely shut. That’s how he’d wanted it before anyway._

_He pulled back, dangerously sharp features hovering over you._

_“Tell me,” he repeated, pausing between each word._

_There was a threat there, but it only sent another wave of arousal straight to your pussy._

_You didn’t say a word._

_You’d been more than accommodating up until now. But you were still angry, embarrassed from being put in your place, and upset he’d come here without explanation, refusing to do anything but make your life more challenging._

_“You’re a fucking brat,” he spat when you refused to answer once again._

_It was the first time you’d heard him curse, and you loved the way it sounded in his deep baritone. Wanted to hear more of it. Wanted to tell him he was being just as bratty as you._

_Instead, you rolled your hips up to meet his again, grinning at the way his face flashed with the pleasure of it. But then he was moving, peeling himself from your body and leaving you cold._

_“I don’t think so,” he said, back turned._

_He grabbed one of the chairs from the small table and dragged it to the bedside. It was only then you realized you were still in your room on Coruscant, though you were distracted again by his hands on your hips. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants, he yanked, pulling them clean off along with your soaked panties._

_Those he kept, and you felt your face heat up at the sight of them, stained wet with your arousal. Kylo brought them to his face, inhaling once with a deep groan. You couldn’t help but whimper at the sight of it, imagining how that perfect nose would feel nudging against your clit as he coated his mouth in your slick._

_He eyes shot to you, never breaking contact as he lowered himself in the chair. The bonds on your wrists loosened enough for him to slip off the rest of your ruined shirt and tug at the clasps of your bra until they popped and revealed your tits to him._

_“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, hand fumbling with the zipper of his pants, the other still gripping your panties._

_That familiar feeling of fingers ghosting over your bare skin startled you, but you were pinned again. The Force gathered under your knees, dragging you to lie askew on the bed, and forced your legs apart putting your pussy full on display._

_Kylo had his cock in his hand now, free from the confines of his pants. It looked heavy and delicious, the tip an angry red from neglect. Your mouth watered._

_He laughed, that dark chuckle that made you shiver. You turned your head to take him in, thighs spread wide, lounging like a king on his lewd throne, slowly stroking his hard on._

_“You want to suck my cock?”_

_His voice was so low you could feel the rumble of it in your chest. You nearly screamed when he twitched his fingers and some unseen mouth latched onto your clit._

_“You want me to cum down your throat?”_

_You’d never heard him talk this much, and you never wanted him to stop. Another curl of his fingers and the Force returned to fondle at your breasts, cupping and rolling one in an invisible palm while sucking and biting at the other nipple._

_“Look at you,” he grated out, jerking himself. “So wet for me…”_

_His skin was flushed, and you knew through your haze of pleasure that his chest was blotched a lovely red that spread up to his ears. You could see beads of precum leaking out onto his leather glove with each pass it made over the head._

_The pressure on your clit was a perfect imitation of his lips, teeth, tongue drawing long stripes up your slit. You could feel your wetness dripping out onto the sheets below you. You needed so badly for something in you, something more._

_“Fuck,” he gasped, cheeks puffing out just a bit as he tried to keep from cumming too soon. “You want me to ruin that pretty pussy, don’t you?”_

_Stars, you did. You wanted him to fuck you hard and fast and make you cum on his cock. You wanted to scream his name and rake your nails down his back and feel your sweat slicked skin pressed to his chest._

_You were so close, the Force on your clit drew quick circles around the sensitive nub until you let out a choked sob. Kylo’s eyes never left you as he lifted your panties again, drawing them into his mouth and tasting you while the hand on his cock increased its pace._

_“Tell me,” he mumbled around the fabric._

_His request hung in the air, but neither of you were coherent enough to acknowledge it, too lost in your impending orgasm._

_And then it was crashing over you, waves of white hot pleasure radiating from your pussy. The Force never relented, keeping up its maddening rhythm on your tits and cunt. Just as you were about to come back down, you saw the edges of Kylo’s lips turn up and something large and hot slammed into you._

_“Say it,” he grunted, cock weeping and so close to release._

_But your mind was blank, empty of nothing but overwhelming fullness. Your walls screamed from the intrusion and so did you, crying out as the Force pumped ruthlessly in and out. Another orgasm ripped through your abused pussy, leaving you dripping and oversensitive—legs shaking, toes curling into the sheets._

_The only thing that pulled you from your blissful stupor was Kylo’s lovely, lovely voice sobbing out your name. You turned just in time to see him cum, hips fucking up into his fist as the hot ropes of it splattered onto his hand and tunic._

_“Tell me what you want,” he sounded wrecked and spent as the words left his mouth._

_A thousand thoughts raced through your head. You looked into his eyes, overcome with how warm the shade of them was. Your chest grew tight at the barely contained desperation in his stare. So many things, you thought, everything and nothing, too much and not enough._

_“I don’t know,” you whispered._

_Seconds passed and you felt the bindings dissipate from your wrists as the Force retreated back into him. He was searching your face for something. You weren’t sure what he wanted you to say, but you knew it wasn’t that._

_The disappointment didn’t show on his face, but you could see it in the way he went blank when you leaned into him._

_You wished you could say more, could say that it was him you wanted. But it hurt too much to admit. Hurt too much to acknowledge that you hungered and craved for a fantasy you could never truly achieve. Speaking it out loud, even here, made it real. Too real. And you couldn’t deal with the pain of having to see him again when you woke up. Knowing what you could and would never have._

_Even in dreams you couldn’t bring yourself to face your fear of that emptiness._

_But you couldn’t bear to leave him looking at you like that either. So you gingerly swung your legs over the side of the bed, slipping a hand into the moist hair at the nape of his neck._

_He was panting still when you placed your free hand on his cock, smearing his release over the length of him in a long, languid stroke. Kylo shuttered under your touch._

_And you knew this was what you were sorry for._

_You rested your forehead against his, feeling the heat of his skin, and tilted your chin. But you only managed to brush your lips against his before he was pulling away. You sat in silent confusion as he tucked himself away, tucked your panties into his back pocket, and turned his back to you, never meeting your eyes once as he stalked out of your line of sight._

_You stared at the empty chair where he’d been sitting, feeling cold, exposed, and strangely cruel. He was halfway out door when you whipped around._

_“Kylo?” you called after him._

_He didn’t stop._

_The door slammed shut._

***

You woke with a start, sitting up so quickly you felt the bones of your spine pop. The sheets were hot and stuck uncomfortably to your skin. You threw them off in a huff, and rubbed your eyes blearily. It was at that point you noticed a large black smudge to the left of the room.

There, reclined on your sofa was the Commander. He’d removed his cape and his helmet hung from his hand near the floor.

You let out an embarrassingly loud shriek.

His gaze, which had been trained disinterestedly on the ceiling, shifted to gaze just as blankly at you. His brows raised just a bit as he observed the scene.

“If you’re so committed to remaining inconspicuous, officer,” he droned, “I’d recommend keeping your voice down.”

You watched him swing both his feet back to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. He absentmindedly wiped a smudge from the visor of his mask.

“My apologies, sir,” you fumed. “But could you tell me what you’re doing here?”

‘ _And how you got in_ ’ you wanted to ask, but the Commander didn’t react, just kept inspecting the object in his hands. When he did respond, it was just as unsatisfying as you’d expected.

“No,” he stated and inclined his head towards the table where your dinner invitation sat. “Though I can tell you that you’re expected to attend dinner in little less than an hour.”

You felt a wave of panic wash through you. The clock on the wall confirmed that you’d slept far longer than planned. There was no way you could afford to be late. Starting off on the wrong foot would only doom you to a longer sentence. You tumbled awkwardly out of the bed, foot catching in the sheets.

“Shit,” you muttered as you tossed one of the garment bags into the refresher.

Commander Ren said nothing as you stumbled in and flicked on the lights, taking in your rumpled hair and the sleep swollen eyes.

In your alarm, you’d nearly forgotten his bizarre and unexplained presence in your room. You popped your head back out when you heard him moving. He was standing now, boots toeing at a snag on the area rug. You recalled, then, that you had not told the embassy the Commander would be accompanying you. Furrowing your brow, you cleared your throat to get his attention.

“Commander,” you said slowly. “You weren’t planning on making an appearance, correct?”

You looked him up and down, distastefully noting the dirt on his boots and the wrinkled fabric of his padded armor. You shuttered at the thought of introducing him looking like that. Not even you could cover up the insult of it.

The muscles in his jaw tightened as he glared from across the room. You didn’t say anything else, just watched as he affixed the helmet to his head. It swallowed up the waves of his hair first. The sharp edge of his chin was the last thing you saw before it clicked into place.

It struck you then, all at once in a tidal wave of some strange, unnamable emotion, that you’d never seen his bare face this close in real life. You wondered if your favorite mole sat in the same spot and kicked yourself mentally for not checking.

He turned to leave, but as if he sensed your anxiety, Ren paused with his hand on the door.

“I have other business to attend to,” his voice was distorted by the vocoder. “In any case, it’s best the representatives remain unaware of my presence.”

So now he agrees with you. This time, you kept your mouth shut about it.

“Yes, sir,” you replied simply, and turned back into the refresher

“You can report to me here when you’re done.”

You whipped back out into the main room, prepared to brief him in literally any other location, but the door was already swinging shut and his footsteps were fading down the hall.

A sigh bubbled up in your throat and worked its way out as you slid down to sit on the cool tile floor. You brought your knees up to your chest and rested your head on them. In an alarmingly short amount of time you’d be expected to eat and mingle and schmooze any number of Coruscant's most elite political figures. All with the knowledge that somewhere, Kylo Ren was lurking around any given corner, doing god knows what to jeopardize your mission here.

Not even your mind was safe from him.

Once again, you thought of what exactly you’d done to deserve this. What small, insignificant decision had led you down this path? When had you unknowingly crafted your own doom?

The answer was somewhat clear. In fact, it had just walked out your door, had just lain in your bed. At the center of all your troubles was the same man, and you were being haunted by him.

He had been unsatisfied with your answer before—disappointed in what he’d seen.

For once, you found you could sympathize with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for reading. It means to the world to me that y'all find some happiness in my very self indulgent work. Let me know what you think in the comments please!! Its the only thing that really keeps me writing this stuff. You can see some of my other work and talk to me on tumblr @star-killer-md as well! Also let me know if the length of these chapters is a bit much, I can work on that if its annoying. Anyway guys, I hope you're all staying safe and I love you <3333


	4. Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens with your introduction to Representative Gahl and a dinner party that goes a bit sour. The Commander knows more than he's saying, and is keeping quite a few secrets. But then again, so are you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote 4000 words of this in one day and I hope it doesn't show. I'm starting to develop a clear plot-line though! I hope...anyway enjoy!

The banquet hall was filled to bursting with members of the Coruscanti government. Their various staff and servers were milling about, holding trays of hors d'oeuvres and thin glasses of expensive alcohol. You fit right into the crowd in your custom tailored attire. That was the one perk of working in this field, occasionally you were allowed to spend copious amounts of First Order funds on very extravagant clothing. The downside being, however, that you only got to wear them to functions like this.

You slipped inside, quickly locating your seat at one of the long tables. Judging from the name cards next to yours, it was meant for those of ‘second tier’ importance. In other words, people not important enough to flatter, but dangerous enough to not directly insult. It was an interesting look into how this Representative Gahl viewed you. There were always certain rules for these events and—if one was well versed enough in them—you could always come out on top.

Fortunately, you were very familiar with these unspoken guidelines of social conduct.

First, it was always best to do a quick scan of the room, familiarize yourself with the players in tonight's game, so to speak. True to his word, the Commander was nowhere to be seen. Strangely enough, you found yourself wishing, just for a moment, that he would appear. It would have been endlessly amusing to see him try and work his way through the room. Maybe in a nice suite, maybe with his pretty hair pulled back from his face.

You chuckled a bit at the thought.

Even more strange was perhaps the fact that you were currently enjoying a thought about the Commander. You tucked that notion away for unpacking at a later, less crucial time.

“Something funny?”

The voice startled you. Turning, you saw who was, presumably, one of the legislative staff approaching you. He was equally well dressed as the rest of the crowd and carried two glasses in his hand.

“Oh not really,” you responded, accepting one of the drinks with a smile, “I was just appreciating the fact I’m being paid to drink the best wine in the galaxy.”

“Aren’t we all?”

He tilted his glass and you clinked yours against the rim. You took a false sip, never actually letting any of the liquor touch your tongue. As expensive as it was, that was the second rule at events like this: only the inexperienced ever actually drank. Everyone else was smart enough to keep their wits about them. You reached out a hand for him to take and introduced yourself.

“It's a pleasure, I’m Lem Alba, I work for Representative Gahl,” he said. “You’re General Hux’s negotiator, I assume?”

Lem brushed his lips over the back of your hand. You found the gesture a bit distasteful, but smiled down at him regardless.

“Yes, I am,” you said with a nod. “What gave it away?”

He shook his head, smiling at the ground. You disliked the way his hair was so purposefully placed on his head. Blonde and straight, it reminded you of Hux—too perfect, too purposeful, too false. Not something you could run your fingers through, no pretty waves.

“You First Order people have a way about you,” Lem huffed. “Something in the way you stand a bit too straight.”

You couldn’t fight him on that. He was probably right, you were foolish to think you’d escaped the crushing, militaristic weight of First Order employment.

“I suppose we do,” you feigned a laugh and gestured out to the bustling room. “Would you mind showing me around?”

You spent the rest of the time before dinner was served drifting from group to babbling group of political elites. Each new name and hand presented you committed firmly to memory. That was the third rule after all. Never forget a name or title, it will always come back to bite you in the ass.

Dinner itself was exactly what you’d expected—food far too rich and extravagant to actually be enjoyable, bits interrupted far too often by meaningless small talk. Time ticked by slowly, and you were counting the seconds until the end of the desert course when you could track down Representative Gahl. Lem was seated not too far, and when the last drinks were served you made a beeline for his chair.

“Oh, hello again officer,” he greeted cheerfully. His breath smelled of too much wine.

“Hello Mr. Alba,” you returned his smile with an added touch to his shoulder, “I’m afraid I have another favor to ask of you.”

“Ah, well you know I’d never pass up the chance to have a First Order officer in my debt.”

The people seated around him roared in laughter and you flashed a grin. He’d never remember this anyway.

“Well then, could you introduce me to Representative Gahl?” you asked, leaning closer as if conspiring. “I’d hate to end tonight having never met the man of the hour.”

Lem nodded and excused himself from the crowd he’d amassed. He seemed to be quite popular, you noted, which also meant he most likely had collected quite a bit of dirt. You’d struck aristocratic gold running into him. Rule number four, always know somebody who can get you in the proverbial door, and if you don’t already, find them.

He led you to a narrow, curtained entrance, placing a guiding hand to the small of your back. You hated when men did that, but it was expected and often seen as polite, so you said nothing. Inside was a small room. It was dimly lit and the air hung heavy with cigar smoke. Off to the side was a private bar, illuminated red by a single overhead light.

Two men sat with their backs to you, drinks in hand and grinning in the way people only do when they’ve lost their inhibition. Lem called out to them and they turned. The one which you assumed was Gahl stood and slapped your guide hard on the back.

“Lem, my boy!” he bellowed. “Where have you been all night?”

“Only my job, sir,” Lem replied cordially and gestured to you. “I’ve come to introduce our guest from the First Order.”

You smiled and inclined your head, “Hello Representative, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Gahl’s white-blue eyes scanned your form, leaving an unsavory film that seemed to coat every inch of your bare skin. His grey beard was kept tidy and scratched your hand when he brushed his lips over your knuckles. You studied the abundant lines in his face and tried not to shudder when he spoke.

“Ah, I’ll admit I did not expect Hux to employ such a beautiful woman in his service,” Gahl straightened and pulled you towards the bar. “I assume you’ll stay for a drink?”

He didn’t wait for a response, but your answer would have been ‘yes’ regardless. That, in fact, was rule number five: always stay for one more drink. That’s generally when the most important things slip out into the open. So, you followed, reluctantly, sitting on one of the empty stools. Behind you, Lem faded seamlessly into the smoke of the room, leaving you alone with the Representative and his companion.

Gahl motioned to the bartender to bring a drink for you. You took it with a smile, swirling the glass but never taking a sip. The man beside Gahl eyed you suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, we weren’t introduced,” you started to say but stopped short when Gahl raised a finger to shush you.

“This is one of my advisors,” he stated. “Though, he won’t be staying.”

The man nodded, polishing off his drink and setting the glass down harshly on the bartop. With one last glance at you, he sauntered out the door.

“This is a bit of an unorthodox location for an advisory meeting, isn’t it Representative?”

Whoever that man was, you were not convinced he was simply part of the staff. You didn’t like that way he looked at you, didn’t like his quick dismissal.

“Well, I’m an unorthodox kind of man,” Gahl replied. “I like to think that’s what makes me so popular with the voters.”

When he spoke, his lips nearly disappeared to reveal teeth that were far too white, far too straight for your liking.

“A break from the norm does tend to draw in attention,” you said and faked letting some of the liquor pass your lips.

“I’m glad I’ve been able to draw in your attention, as you put it,” the Representative leaned forward and placed an unnervingly soft hand on your thigh.

Up until now, you’d thought there was no possible way for you to detest someone more than you did Commander Ren—when you weren’t dreaming of fucking him, of course—but Gahl seemed to be doing everything in his power to change that.

Ren might not respect you in the slightest, might inconvenience you in every conceivable fashion, might go out of his way to be blatantly rude, but he certainly had never done that.

You suddenly wished you were back in your room staring into the Commander’s perpetually disgruntled face. That was far more preferable than this.

“Yes well, really you should thank Commander Ren for that,” you mumbled into your glass.

At the mention of the Commander, Gahl paused for just a moment. The hand on your thigh tightened just a bit before he removed it completely.

“Perhaps it is a blessing then that Ren did not make another appearance,” he said quietly.

You kept your face blank. He didn’t actually sound that happy about you replacing the Commander as a delegate. Strange, you thought, but a notion better kept to yourself.

“I suppose it is,” you replied and quickly changed the subject. “You know, Representative, I’d love to discuss with you the contents of the speeches you’ve requested of me.”

The smoke in the room was beginning to settle in your hair and clothing, but Gahl’s gaze dug deeper, searing itself into you wherever it landed. You were going to have a hell of a time scrubbing yourself of this man.

“Surely we could talk about that some other time,” he waved his hand in dismissal, “I’d like you to join me and the team the day after tomorrow at my villa.”

“Oh, well sir,” you stuttered, caught off guard.

“Now I won’t hear any protest,” Gahl chided, and waved a slim finger in your face. “We can discuss whatever you’d like then, a little ocean breeze always helps to take the edge off this political nonsense.”

“Well then, thank you for the invitation.”

You prayed he’d be too drunk to remember this in the morning. Gahl down the contents in his glass and held up a hand to the bartender for another. He shifted to face you and shot a presumptuous grin in your direction.

“I’ll have one of the aides send for some seaside appropriate attire, you might find you’d like to go for a swim.”

You let out a shaky breath, “I hear the sea is lovely this time of year.”

Before he could get in another disturbing word, the unnamed ‘advisor’ from before peaked through the curtains and called to Gahl. The Representative turned and waved a friendly hand to the man who flicked his eyes quickly between the two of you.

“Come sir, it’s time for you to be retiring,” he said tersely.

You stood as Gahl was collected and bid you a swift goodnight—throwing in an extra reminder about your impromptu beach trip the following morning. The pair disappeared through the small entrance, leaving just you and the wisps of smoke behind.

Standing there in the empty bar, you felt a tugging—a deep pulling of something strange and formless. It was familiar when it ghosted over your skin, bidding you follow, it said there is more to this than there seems. You watched the curtain flutter just a bit in the stillness of the room before rushing back into the banquet hall.

It was empty of all but the serving staff when you entered, catching only a glimpse of Gahl and his advisor leaving the room. You moved quickly, but not enough to draw too much attention, and followed them out into the corridor. Hanging back, you tracked their retreating forms.

You really weren’t certain what you planned on doing, or why you felt that you should follow them, but—in the moment—it seemed very important that you do. The twisting in your gut told you to go and so you did. Once they’d turned the corner, you darted out into the hallway tracing their steps. At the cross of the hall you paused, back pressed up against the wall, and listened for the two men. Peeking around the edge, you caught a quick glimpse of them waiting for the elevator.

Gahl was slumped up against the metal door, his advisor tapping an expensibly booted foot against the carpet. Their voices were almost drowned out by the thrumming of the elevator coils, but you made out the end of their conversation.

“You shouldn’t be talking to that First Order woman,” the mysterious advisor muttered.

“Oh come now, Atreus, there’s no problem in having a bit of fun with the girl,” Gahl clapped back.

The man he’d called Atreus glowered, “I’ve heard of her, she’s Hux’s top negotiator.”

You did your best to commit him to memory. He was sickly pale with cropped dark hair and short beard. He was taller than Gahl and slim, you assumed what he lacked in physicality he made up for with cunning. Simply put, he exuded an untrustworthy energy.

“I’d banked on that mask-wearing fool to make a second appearance, are you quite sure she’s worth the same to them?”

Gahl pulled away from the door as it began to slide open and the two men stepped in. Just before it slipped closed, you caught Atreus’ clipped response.

“We can’t back out now,” he said. “And if she isn’t, well she’ll make a good enough example.”

***

The door to your room clicked shut behind you and a chill crept across your skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. You swallowed around the knot in your throat and quickly scanned the room. The Commander still hadn’t returned from wherever the hell he’d gone off to. This time his absence was not comforting.

You grabbed one of the chairs and jammed it hard under the door’s handle. After your stint in espionage, a flimsy lock no longer seemed secure enough.  
With a grimace you pulled our top to your nose. It still reeked of smoke and ill-conceived intentions. Your hands shook as they ripped the soiled fabric from your skin and tossed it onto the bed, leaving you to stand naked in the middle of the room. The air felt clean and cool on your skin, but you wanted desperately to wash away what you heard.

An example.

That’s what he called you.

Stumbling a bit, you made your way into the refresher and cranked the shower to its hottest setting. Steaming water swirled and filled the basin before gurgling its way down the drain. You stepped in and let the heat rush over you. Truly it was a shame your first experience with a properly boiling shower was overshadowed by an ominous threat to your wellbeing. Your skin burned at first as the water pounded down your back, but after a few moments the steam only felt warm on your skin.

Warm like hands. Warm like strong fingers.

Ironic though it was, you really did wish the Commander was here. Which was one of the most bizarre thoughts you’d ever had, really, considering how many hours a day you generally dedicated to wishing the exact opposite. That man had never once made you feel anything other than personally targeted the entire time you’d known him, but now you wanted nothing more than Kylo Ren and his crackling saber between you and the door.

An example.

The words in Atreus’ awful, slimy voice seemed to ooze from between the tiles. You doused yourself in complementary body wash and scrubbed until your arms felt raw.

An example.

You’d made plenty of people into examples during your time with the First Order. It wasn’t a rarely used strategy. If the person of interest couldn’t be manipulated, bribed, or reasoned with, then all they were good for was showing the rest of the galaxy what happened when they refused to cooperate. An example meant a lot of things, none of which were pleasant.

Closing your eyes, you let the water run over your face. Something was constricting in your chest, leftover adrenaline making your limbs tremble uncomfortably.

You needed to calm down.

Logically, it couldn’t be that bad. Gahl would have to be completely out of his mind to make a stand against you on his own. Coruscant benefited greatly from their relationship with the First Order, so it was unlikely that this amounted to anything more than some insulted ego.

Once again, all your troubles could be traced back to one man.

The very same one who catalyzed the incident that mandated your presence on this planet. Who was apparently the original object of this a probable insurrection that you were now the focus of. And, who was now the only thing now standing between you and said imminent danger.

Every time, without fail, it was always Kylo fucking Ren.

As if on cue, you heard a sudden, stumbling crash from outside—someone grunted loudly.

The scream left your mouth before you’d even registered it rising in your throat. Beneath you, the floor shifted, and you tumbled out of the shower, landing in a pile on the floor with a wet slap. Your heart pounded against your chest in an erratic tattoo. Groaning from the impact of your head to the tiles, you listened with reluctant relief to the series of static curses emanating from behind the door. There was a soft thud of steel on wood, and a distorted voice called out your title questioningly.

“In here,” you mumbled, peeling yourself up from the floor.

Hurried footfalls approached the door and a hand began to push it open. You scrambled to grab something to cover yourself off the vanity.

“Don’t come in!” you snapped and the door paused.

Ren huffed and you heard him take a few steps back, “Then stop shouting.”

Scowling, you dried off quickly and wrapped yourself in the plush white towel. In your rush to scrub away all your anxieties, you hadn’t bothered to bring a change of clothes with you. Well, whatever he saw it was his fault.

The door slid loudly on its tracks as you stepped out into the main room. Kylo Ren was standing next to the bed—bare faced now—staring down at your discarded clothing on the comforter. The chair keeping the door wedged shut was sitting upturned against the far wall.

“Sir, you have to stop doing that,” you said, pulse still jumping in your throat.

This man would truly be the death of you.

He looked at you blankly down his nose, lips parted ever so slightly, letting you glimpse the crooked outline of his teeth. You were dripping on the floor and felt very much like a pitiful, drowned animal under his gaze. It was only a moment later that you registered you were not the only one creating a puddle. Steady droplets of acrid red ran off the edges of his padded tunic and collected by his boots.

You gaped.

“Commander,” your tongue felt heavy with the metallic taste in the air, “is that blood?”

“Do you make a habit of asking stupid questions, officer?” he responded as it really was that unreasonable for you to ask.

“Only when you’re around, sir,” you clapped back, your face hot with indignation.

He brushed past you without responding and you whirled around to see him trudge into the refresher.

“Wait!” you called, and his hand paused on the door, back towards you. He took up the entire frame, shoulders nearly touching the wall on either side. You imagined the muscles shifting in his back, taught and pushing against the freckled skin.

“Yes?” his tone was short and sounded annoyed, but you pressed on.

“Are you okay?”

Ren went still for a moment, if he noticed you dropped the ‘sir,’ he didn’t acknowledge it. The space between you seemed to span for miles. He didn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s not mine.”

With that, he disappeared behind the door and seconds later, the water sputtered to life. You stood there, soaking the rug for a few silent minutes waiting to see if you’d get a further explanation, but none came. The sound of soaked clothing hitting the floor emanated from the shower.

You picked up the discarded chair and placed it back under the door handle.

It was late or more specifically, very early according to the clock on the wall. Your shoulders slumped as you dried off, tossing your evening outfit into its bag to be laundered and rummaging around for something to sleep in. You dropped the towel and pulled the pajamas on quickly, grabbing your datapad and plopping down on the bed.

The Commander said he wanted you to brief him, so you wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon. Strange, you thought, that he’d want to know anything about the presumably uneventful dinner party you were supposed to be attending.

Almost like he knew something you didn’t.

Almost like he knew something immediately relevant to your physical safety that you didn’t.

Almost like he knew and wasn’t going to say anything.

You ground your teeth in silence and glared at the bathroom door. Until now you hadn’t thought it possible to experience so many emotions all at one time, but with the Commander involved you seemed to ricochet between them like a misfired blaster bolt.

And then you heard a pause in the water hitting tile and feet sliding on the wet floor.

You crossed your legs together to quell the uncomfortable rush of heat caused by your traitorous brain. He was pretty and bare just a few feet away, all long limbs and naked skin pink from the hot water. You’d never seen him naked, but you could imagine it very clearly—in shameful detail.

You tossed your datapad aside and rubbed your eyes in frustration.

It was exhausting really to feel so guilty and so enraged and so...turned on in the span of one night.

Tell me what you want, his voice echoed in your head, wrecked and desperate and disappointed.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath and stretched flat out on the bed.

You really were shameless. Shameless and disgusting for lusting after a ghost—a shadow dream of a real man, a real person who showered and slept and brushed his teeth and didn’t know you fantasized about his hands on you every night. It had been so much easier when you only had to hate him from afar and hold him to you from the safe distance of your sleep.

But you hadn’t lied, then. When he asked, you truly didn’t know. And you couldn’t explain why you felt such a horrible, consuming guilt for it. All you knew for certain was that somewhere, in some deep crucial part of you, there was an empty pit that only ever felt full when he touched you.

And you wanted to feel that again.

This would be the last time. Just once more and then you’d forget about it. You’d focus on the job, and getting out alive and you wouldn’t give the Commander anymore thought, in dreams or otherwise.

So slowly, afraid that somehow he might hear, you slipped a hand into your loose shorts. As long as he didn’t know, it would be okay, you reassured yourself. As long as he didn’t know.

He kept enough from you apparently.

Your fingers slipped into a familiar pattern, rubbing sweet, easy circles that had you biting your lips to keep silent in no time.

As long as he didn’t know.

***

Kylo Ren let out a shaky breath. His left hand was braced against the tile wall while the other stroked his hard, heavy cock. He had just finished washing away all the remnants of blood and grime that had soaked through his clothes when your thoughts had drifted unbidden into his head.

He didn’t know how you did it, through what channel or connection you’d weaseled your way in, but he couldn’t block you out.

You were spiraling again. He felt the swirling confusion, the knotted mass of anger and guilt and reluctant desire. Felt it like it was his own. Maybe it was.

You were angry with him, but you almost always were. The annoying buzz of it had become a sort of white noise through the Force by this point.

You were touching yourself. He could feel that too. Feel how wet and warm and pliant you were for him. And when you started grinding down on your fingers, stroking pleasure from your walls and imagining it was him—

Kylo fucked his hand harder, felt the dry slide of the water and flicked his thumb over the head. He imagined it was you too, could think of nothing else but how tight you’d be. Tight and hot. You’d have to stretch so much to accommodate his size, but he’d have you dripping and ready to take him. He wanted so badly to watch your pussy swallow his length. Needed to see your face when you finally took his cock, when you felt that first thrust, the slap of his hips against your thighs.

From the other room he could hear—out loud this time—the small gasps you were making, and had to bite his hand to stifle the groan rising in his chest.

In his head he could see you, back arching off the mattress, perfect breasts exposed to the cold air and nipples just begging for him to take them in his mouth. You were getting close, another finger slipping easily into your cunt. He heard you thinking of how the Force had fucked you, remembering how delicious it felt inside. Heard you wonder if he could really do that.

Kylo almost laughed.

You had no idea the things he could do to you, wanted to do to you.

His cock was so painfully hard, his arm growing tired from jerking himself but it felt so good, you in his head felt so, so good. And he hated that it did. Hated that you do this to him. Has hated it for months now, months that you’ve nagged and pulled at him every night. Ever since you started working on the _Finalize_ r, he never had a moment free of your constant presence.

Hating him.

Wanting him.

_Wanting him._

**_Wanting him._ **

Hating him again.

And he didn’t know why. There was no inkling of the Force in you, he’d looked and hadn’t found it. But there was something, something nameless and powerful to which he couldn’t pinpoint the source and it was driving him off the edge. He was right on it now, hand sliding over the length of his dick, slick with precum and just on the cusp of release.

You were conjuring images of him in your head. Him, pinning you to the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist—ankles locked just above his ass—pounding into you. Then on his back, you riding his cock, his feet planted on the bed, hips pistoning up into your aching pussy. Bouncing you in his lap, so close that all your skin was touching, his cock grinding against that perfect spot inside you.

He was going to cum, could feel his climax building to a peak.

He wanted to fill you. Fill you to the brim, fill you till his release poured out of you and then fill you again. Fill you until there was no empty space left, until he occupied every gap and hollow under your skin. It took everything in him not to go to you now. Not to rip the bathroom door from its track and bury himself in you.

Kylo could feel you thinking of how he might hold you, how his chest would be warm and solid under yours and he almost choked. And then he could feel _you_ seeing _him_. He could feel you watching as he pleasured himself to the thought of you, could feel how you’d loved watching him just a few hours ago too, loved the way he looked when he came.

His breathing was ragged in his chest. He wondered if you knew what you did to him, what you’d reduced him too. He hadn’t ever meant to get this close, to let it go this far. You were like quicksand, sucking him down into you inch by inch the more he struggled to get free.

The hand on his cock picked up the pace, his hips snapping up to meet it. He wanted to sink his teeth into you when he came, wanted to taste your sweet flesh between his lips and hear you cry for him.

“Kylo…”

His hips faltered, when the quiet sound of your voice carried over the running water. You were cumming on your fingers. He could feel the residual waves of it flow through whatever bond the Force had forged between you.

_“Kylo…"_

Your voice was nothing more than a whimper, turning up at the end like a prayer for him. And the sound of it had him spilling all over his hand. Thick, white ropes of cum coating his palm as he worked himself through his orgasm.

Before he could even think to hold it back, a long, low moan clawed its way out of his throat.

Just like that, the connection went dead. And he was left abandoned again, the shower water beating like a cold whip on his back.

***

You quickly muffled yourself with a pillow when you heard it. You would know that voice anywhere, had dreamed of pulling noises like that from Kylo Ren for weeks.

A few seconds later, you heard the shower shut off and shuffling from inside the bathroom. Your legs still shook in the aftershocks of your orgasm, thighs sticky with release. Scrambling, you launched yourself from the bed and landed clumsily onto the sofa.

You had to be dreaming, you thought. It certainly felt like you were dreaming.

Just a few minutes ago, you’d been self-indulgently fantasizing about the myriad of ways the Commander might fuck you senseless. Dozens of potential positions had run through your head, each more enticing than the last, each making you gush. Kylo had such a lovely cock. You had been trying to recall how it looked the last time you’d seen him stroking it, pleasing himself to the sight of you.

And the image had come so freely, presented to you on a silver platter—Kylo, in the same shower you’d just occupied. One hand supporting his weight while the other stroked his hard on, so so so close to his release. His plush bottom lip was pulled between his teeth and dark locks of hair clung to his flushed cheeks.

That was what finally sent you tumbling into orgasm. He looked magnificent like that, right on the edge of his climax, and you’d cum so hard from the thought of it. It felt so natural then, to cry out for him. You really couldn’t help it, his name felt so good in your mouth, rolled across your teeth the way his tongue did when he kissed you.

So you let it slip quietly from your lips.

And then.

Then you’d felt it. Felt the rolling pleasure of Kylo’s orgasm course through you, felt the foreign pressure of a release that wasn’t yours pour over your skin. Felt the ache in his arm from jerking his cock too quickly, felt the twinges of muscles in his abdomen as he came over his pretty fingers. You were awash with it and tingling all over, feeling full and whole for just a split second.

It was an incredible feeling.

Strange, intoxicating, and thunderous.

Fleeting, gone in a horrible instant of reality.

Now you stared, eyes wide, down at your datapad, overcome with the knowledge that Commander Kylo Ren had almost certainly jerked himself off in your shower while you touched yourself to the thought of it.

For the second time that night, you had to count your breaths to slow the hyperventilation. You bit nervously at your thumbnail.

You’d felt him. Felt what he felt like it was your own, and you certainly hadn’t been asleep. Your mind raced, half formed questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to bounced at random around your skull.

The sound of the door sliding on its track made your head shoot up involuntarily. You only caught a glimpse of him—naked except for a towel held loosely around his waist, skin shining and flushed red, marked all over with pretty moles—before your view was obscured by a pillow flying into your face.

You let out a muffled yell as it smacked you with a dull thud, and hung suspended as the Commander began to rummage around, presumably for clothes. You surprised even yourself by thinking about how gorgeous he looked. Muscular, but not the flashy kind—a build which hinted at actual strength. Almost instinctively, you noted the mark that sat perfectly above his lips, just to the left—your favorite. You swallowed nervously and mumbled into the pillow.

“Um, sir?”

The fabric pressed harder into your face.

“Quiet,” he grunted.

You heard him retreat back into the refresher and slam the door behind him. The pillow fell limply into your lap as it clicked shut. In any other scenario you would have felt a bit insulted, but currently you were too concentrated on trying to remain calm.

There were too many implications for you to process all at once.

Not to mention the fact that at some point he’d moved his bags in while you’d been gone. Well, bag singular, but it sat starkly on the table, its white First Order insignia staring at you from across the room. You decided that if he planned on staying you would rather sleep on the floor.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Ren came marching back out, clothed now in tight black pants and similarly fitted black, long sleeve shirt. The two of you stared at each other in silence for an excruciatingly long time before he spoke.

“Tell me what you found out,” he said, settling heavily into the only remaining chair.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he might have done it on purpose—legs spread and relaxed as he waited for your answer.

You licked your cracked lips, “Dinner was very nice, thank you for asking, sir.”

“Is that why there’s a chair under the door?”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself for your liking. You shifted, hugging the pillow to your chest and tucking your feet under you on the sofa.

“Well, the representative and one of his advisors seem to be planning a mutiny at my expense,” you tried not to let your voice shake, “but other than that, I’d say I made some very beneficial connections.”

The Commander didn’t look surprised in the slightest, although he did run a hand through his damp hair and sighed.

“Yes, I gathered that,” he spoke the words to the floor.

You felt a new rush of panic and anger run through you, “Do I get to find out whose blood is all over the floor or is that a secret too?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Ren said, crossing his arms against his massive chest.

You bristled at that, tossing the pillow as hard as you could back at him. He snatched it out of the air with irritating ease.

“Actually,” you snapped, “I think it does concern me, so I’d appreciate some explanation, sir.”

The pillow dropped to the ground as Kylo pushed himself out of the chair, crossing the room to cage you between his arms on the couch. Each hand rested by your head on the back and his eyes searched your face. You thought maybe they flicked down to your lips once before he spoke, low and dangerous.

“You want an explanation,” he didn’t ask it, it wasn’t a question. “Fine, whatever plan these politicians have to make their foolish stand is banking on your personal importance to the First Order.”

“I know that,” you whispered softly, looking down into your lap.

“No matter how much evidence to the contrary, you’re not an idiot, officer,” his voice was like ice on your skin. “You know that it won’t be enough.”

It was true but you wished he hadn’t said it. Even if they killed you, Hux could find another one of your staff to fill the empty slot in seconds. You thought distantly that it could easily be Hana/Sara that would take your place. Your eyes watered and you tried to blink it away.

You were expendable, you were no one.

“So why are you here?”

You looked up at him, straight into his lovely brown eyes. They were the same, the same pretty gold flecks and black ring around the outside. He was the same right down to the placement of his moles. There was something between you, something waiting to be acknowledged, spoken into life. But neither of you said a word.

Kylo pulled away first.

“That’s enough,” he gathered his mask from the table and fit it over his head.

“Where are you going?” you asked incredulously, standing on shaking legs.

He was halfway to the door and setting the chair aside once again, “I’ll return soon.”

“Wait, I-,” you stuttered, caught between wanting him out of your sight and the terrifying fear of being left alone. “Do you have—”

“You’re safe,” he cut you off, regarding you through the mask. “Don’t leave this room.”

“I really wasn’t planning on it,” your voice didn’t come out as harshly as you’d hoped.

“I’ll be back before morning,” Ren replied, voice a staticy mess through his mask.

And then he was gone again. That seemed to be his new favorite hobby, slipping into your life for short moments at a time, only to cause irreparable emotional mayhem and slip just as easily back out. Numbly, you placed the chair back under the door.

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t.

You were too tired. Too overwhelmed.

And for some unknowable, fucking reason, all you could think about was how he looked like he wanted to kiss you just a second ago. You wanted to cling to that thought, make it whole in fantasy when you slept, but you did what you could to banish it from your mind. Because you didn’t do that anymore, and Maker knows you had far more important things to worry about.

The bed was cold when you slipped under the sheets, and you left the small lamp on to illuminate the room with a false sense of security. Sleep was elusive and came in short bursts. You had no dreams, only snippets of hallways and muffled voices through a door. At some time during the night, the lamp had been turned off and your bed had grown a few degrees warmer. You rolled restlessly, twisting the blankets into a knot until you caught a faint, familiar scent. Regulation toothpaste, fresh mint and clean breath.

You slept soundly after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much once again for reading! You know the drill by this point, leave me a comment or reach out on my tumblr @star-killer-md to keep me writing! I love reading all your thoughts about it and I get a lot of my ideas from you guys so do with that what you will. As always, I hope you're all staying safe and happy <3333


	5. I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kylo Ren continues to be the source of all your problems, and you continue to be attracted to that quality in him. For some goddamn reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, im tired. This update fucked me harder than Kylo Ren ever could and I'm gonna die mad about it. I have no idea what it was about this specific update, but it plowed my ass and honestly thank GOD its done. I'm gonna go eat some dumplings and read someone else's smut now. I love you all, I hope its okay.

He wasn’t looking at you. 

He hadn’t looked at you all morning. 

_You_ were looking though, couldn’t stop looking. Ever since you’d woken to find your bed empty and the Commander sat on the couch across from you, scrolling mindlessly through his datapad. There was a plate with crumbs left scattered on its surface and cup on the nightstand beside him.

You thought it might have been coffee. It was odd to think of him eating or drinking, for some reason you’d assumed before he didn’t need too. That seemed foolish now that you knew just how _real_ he was. 

How did he take it, you wondered. With cream? Sugar to ease the bitterness? Or did he like the way it burned and tingled without anything to numb its acidic sting. 

On the small table in the corner, a silver room service tray sat abandoned. The fresh fruit was growing warm, filling the room with a sickly sweet scent that couldn’t even begin to cover the stench of avoidance that hung in the air. 

He hadn’t spoken to you all morning either. 

You both had yet to speak. 

You might have asked about the coffee, but then you noticed the very clear indent of a head on the pillow beside you. A few black hairs stood out starkly against the cream colored sheets. 

And then you remembered. 

_Someone’s breath washing warm over your face, the glimpse of him bare from the waist up, your favorite mole, the shower water pounding over pink skin, his name in your mouth—_

And it became clear why he wasn’t saying anything. 

Because he knew what you’d done. 

And you knew he knew. 

And _he_ knew that _you_ knew he knew. 

It felt horribly awkward breaking the stillness of the room, so you didn’t move from the bed. Just sat up, letting the covers pool in your lap as the fruit slowly rotted and neither of you spoke a word. Once you thought he might have glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but when you turned, he quickly looked back down at the glowing screen in his lap. 

Eventually, you’d had enough. Throwing the sheets off your bare legs, you climbed out of bed and padded quietly into the refresher. You shut the door with a click and heard the immediate shuffling of fabric from outside. Soft footsteps and the sound of pouring liquid filtered in from the main room, but the extra clink of a spoon stirring or the dripping of cream was decidedly absent. 

He drank it black, then. 

The thought settled heavily in you. 

Your reflection in the mirror was pitiable, puffy, tired eyes staring back at you blankly. You ran the water, splashing some on your face and tried not to think about what you’d ‘ _seen’_ the Commander do in the shower behind you last night. 

But one look at the slate gray tiles had images of his hand curling against them, the other wrapped around— 

You buried your face in one of the hand towels and groaned into it. Was he staring at your empty bed and thinking the same thing? Were scenes of you writhing on the sheets playing themselves on loop in the Commander’s head? Could he feel the lingering want for him in the air around you?

Outside the door, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like Ren choking on his coffee. 

Staring down into the basin, you felt a terrible realization cresting over the horizon. He knew about last night—that was a given. You had heard him, seen him, _felt_ him in some ethereal way you could not explain. He’d been in you too, a presence in your head, an audience to all that you thought of him. 

But was that really the first time?

Because—now that you thought about it, really stopped and breathed it all in—the empty, lonely, half-filled and never completed feeling that sat deeply in your bones was only ever gone when he touched you—only ever relieved when he visited you in your sleep. 

And you had been blessedly free of it last night, when you lay breathless and trembling with a pleasure that did not belong to you. 

In fact, you did not feel it even now.

You thought of his face. Too identical, every mole and freckle right down to your favorite of them in the same place. The same eyes, same angle of his teeth, same ears just a bit too big and hair that fell in his face. The same baby curls by the crown of his head. 

It was simply impossible for your mind alone to have crafted such a perfect replica. 

There was no denying it. 

And it was only now dawning on you—that, in fact, it had always been him. 

The Commander Ren who drank black coffee and did everything in his power to enrage you at a moment's notice was one and the same with the Kylo who had plagued your mind for months. Whom you had not so secretly craved like he was ambrosia and you, a starving mortal at his feet. 

Your breath shook as it filled your lungs and clawed its way back out like the secret of it was trying to burst free from its prison in your ribcage. 

Outside, the Commander was moving again, and you listened, feeling the pull in each step—like he was walking through honey. 

The soft swish of his pants was the only sound apart from your shallow breathing. There was something alive in the air and it was waiting. 

The shadow of his feet came to a halt outside the door and you heard the soft thump of his hand resting against it. You were compelled by a force—the Force maybe—some unknowable tugging in your veins. Your feet found their way to stand toe to toe, palm to palm with Kylo Ren, nothing but the thin wood of the door between you. 

There was a stillness settling in the room, and when you closed your eyes, you could see it. 

He was there, clear as the void of space and twice as lovely—standing, staring through the barrier between your bodies. And you felt him see you too. Felt yourself full to the brim and fantastically whole. 

You wanted to touch him. 

Needed to touch him. 

And you knew he would let you. 

Because he always had before and you couldn’t stop your hand from pushing against the wood, prying it away to reveal Kylo, _your_ Kylo, _your_ Commander to you and then— 

Then it all shattered. 

The door between you was flung nearly off its tracks as someone rapped twice loudly from the hall. You barely had time to register the awful sinking sensation, like a knife carving you in two as the Commander met your eyes for the first time that morning and you felt nothing. 

The knocking came again and you gazed at him frantically. 

“Get in,” you hissed under your breath.

He stared at you with his pretty brown eyes, frowning like he always did. The man before you was simply your uncooperative Commander who could do nothing but cause unnecessary inconvenience. There was no more glimmer in his gaze to tell you the last few minutes hadn’t been just another dream. 

Your eye twitched as you stepped out past him and gestured towards the empty space left behind. 

“I’m sorry, would you like to be found out?”

The tapping on the door repeated itself and you pointed harshly at the bathroom until he finally slipped inside, knocking his shoulder into you as he went. You shut the door a little harder than strictly necessary. 

A familiar voice called to you from outside. 

“Miss Negotiator?” 

When you’d opened the door, Lem Alba was standing in the hall just outside. In his hand he held a small package. 

You apologized politely, “I was just about to get in the shower.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “I won’t keep you too long then, just came to deliver this and to let you know that Representative Gahl has invited you to travel with his personal security team tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, right,” you tried not to sound disappointed that he hadn’t forgotten your conversation, and took the parcel from his hand. 

It wasn’t that the gesture was entirely unusual, but Gahl didn’t exactly strike you as someone important enough to warrant a whole team of guards. You thought anxiously of Atreus. 

An example. 

“Why with his personal team, may I ask?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this” Lem looked up and down the hall before leaning in conspiratorially, “but one of the staff was found dead a few hours ago, so we’re increasing protection to some of the more high ranking individuals.”

The shock on your face was mostly genuine, “Shit, that’s horrible.” 

Lem nodded and sighed, leaning up against the door frame, “Yes, well that’s what we’ve been dealing with all morning.” 

You chuckled, “Don’t you just love doing jobs that aren’t yours?”

 _That’s why I’m here_ , you almost said but thought better of it. Something told you your audience wouldn’t appreciate the comment. The hard, invisible pinch on your thigh confirmed your suspicions. 

“You got that right,” he mumbled and stood up straight. “And I should get back to it.” 

“Of course,” you gave him a thin smile and moved to close the door but Lem’s hand caught it at the last second. 

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.” 

Glancing down at the package in your hand, you felt your face grow hot, “I will.” 

You meant to shut the door quietly, Lem still smiling at you from the other side, but the knob was ripped from your hand and it slammed closed with a bang. After a few seconds you heard the bathroom door slide open revealing Kylo Ren, taking up the entire archway. 

His size might have intimidated you if you hadn’t been so angry. 

“Care to explain yourself, sir?” you’d asked, all mercy and craving for him dying away as he stared at you blankly, jaw set on edge. It really was so amazing how this man could flip your moods like a switch. Night and day. Your hatred of him was forever inevitable. 

“I should ask you the same, officer.”

Outwardly he looked unfazed, eyes flicking to the package in your hand, but you’d seen him like this back on the _Finalizer_. The eerie calm before he snapped like a bowstring and left destruction in his wake. Before the bodies of officers who wronged him littered the floor and you were left to clean up the rubble.

You were walking on thin ice and it was cracking. 

You took another step. 

“If you’re insinuating that _I’m_ the one jeopardizing our position here, then you are sorely mistaken,” your voice came out in a harsh whisper and grated your throat. 

The coffee cup on the nightstand rattled. 

“Remind me,” he took a menacing step towards you, “who here was it that agreed to leave the district with a group plotting against the Order?”

You met him head on, “I’m sorry you’re so woefully ignorant of diplomatic proceedings, but it wasn't exactly as if I had a choice.”

Cracks skittered up the porcelain as Kylo’s hands flexed, curling into fists at his sides. A rush of slick warmth flooded you at the sight. You tried to beat down the rising wave of sick arousal, but truly you couldn’t help it. Not when he looked at you with those pretty eyes blown wide and black with some dangerous suggestions. Not when his fingers were biting into his palms and you were imagining the marks they could leave on you. 

“Watch your mouth,” he gritted out each word, perfect teeth flashing behind his pink lips. 

You didn’t. 

“At least I know not to leave a body for them to find!”

The slight twitch of his eye was the only warning you got before the cup across the room splintered. Shards sharp as knives exploded out in an arch catching on your clothes and littering the rug. In the same split second Kylo Ren pounced like a predator on the hunt. His fist connected with the wall next to your head, dusting the side of your face with paint chips as it crumpled under his hand. 

You stared, gaze flicking between his shaking arm sticking out of the newly formed hole in your wall and his wild eyes—feral, lovely. 

For a minute, neither of you moved, just stood breathing each other's breaths and waiting. Again, he was only inches from you and you wished that you’d gotten to glimpse him before. That you could have slid the barrier between you aside and seen him soft and melting instead of untamed and steel hardened. 

But it seemed neither of you could let go of this savage security blanket of rage for each other. 

And if this was the closest to him you could get, that would have to be enough. 

You felt yourself draining, deflating, shrinking and cast your eyes down in surrender. Kylo pushed off the wall a second later, turning his back to you and burying his hands in his hair. He folded onto the sofa, legs spread and elbows on his knees. 

You’d seen him like this in a dream once, held his face in your hands and begged for him to take you. 

His eyes flicked to you still standing against the wall. 

“You’ve done this before,” he mumbled into his palms. 

You gaped. 

“Um, could be more specific, sir?” 

The look that comment elicited nearly turned you to stone. 

“Oh, if you’re talking about the strategic murder of political elites,” you let out an uneasy laugh and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, “then yes, I’ve arranged them.”

You weren’t exactly proud of that, but it came with the job description. Par for the course as they say.

It was a dirty thing to do in the world of politics, and you felt much more satisfied when you had properly manipulated your opponent into submission rather than just killing them off. Your throat began to grow tight at the thought of yourself, shot in the back walking away from the mediation table. Just like the man who had this job before you.

Everything in the First Order came stained with blood and you were being called to pay the piper. 

What goes around comes around...as they say. 

“And?” his short tone brought you out of your stupor. 

You furrowed your brow, “Commander, are you asking me how I’d plot my own kidnapping and murder?”

He waved his hand for you to continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be asking. You supposed, in this world it was. 

“Alright then,” you sighed and flopped back on the mattress. “I would do it somewhere big, somewhere with an audience so the message gets across. Instill fear and go out with a bang.”

Kylo’s head shot up, “They're planning on broadcasting the campaign announcement and the Order’s endorsement.”

“What?” you lifted your head off the pillows. “Did the dead body tell you that?”

“He wasn’t dead at the time,” Ren clapped back and pushed himself up in one smooth motion. 

He reached for his helmet sitting by the arm of the couch and slipped it over his head without a word. You watched him replace his layers, clipping the large belt in place and tugging on his boots. 

“Well, if I was going to kill me that’s when I’d do it,” you said, rolling on your side to watch him tighten the laces. 

Kylo didn’t say anything to that. Just stood and marched his way past the hole in the wall and stopped by the door. 

“Don’t—”

“Leave this room,” you interrupted. “I know.” 

The Commander huffed once, nothing more than an exhale of static and let the door click shut behind him. 

*** 

That was almost two days ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. 

Well, he’d certainly been there—the warm spot on your bed told you as much—but he was gone by morning and you’d left with the Representative and his team not long after. 

Currently, you were lounging in one of the large, soft chairs on your private balcony watching the waves and enjoying your first moments alone since arriving at the villa. Most of the day had been filled with hours upon hours of dull discussions where no one really wanted to hear what you had to say, but expected you to say something anyway. Finally, you’d been able to slip out while the rest of the staff sat down for drinks in the drawing room. 

The sound of the sea drifted up from the shore and settled around you, blanketing the small deck in a layer of artificial calm. The sun had begun its descent, and the water glimmered golden in its dying light. 

Now, there was just you and the ocean and your thoughts. 

Which, if you were honest with yourself, wasn’t that much of an improvement. 

Because you were thinking of _him_. 

Because that’s all you ever did anymore. 

Thinking of how you wished he was here and how you never wanted to face him again. Thinking of how you wished everything was simpler. 

And how you didn’t wish that at all. 

It was true, at first Kylo Ren had been nothing to you. His existence was more of a myth, a legend that you heard whispered, but was easy to disbelieve. How could a man like that exist, you’d thought. People didn’t live off of blood and waves of rotting bodies, they didn’t feed on power or bend the very fabric of the universe to their will. 

But they did drink coffee, and brush their teeth, and sleep beside you when they thought you wouldn’t remember. Real people tied their shoes and put holes in your wall when you talked out of turn. 

You thought of your first dreams of him, when Kylo was still soft and kind and not wholly himself—warm and gentle and lacking. You thought of him filling out around the edges, becoming clearer and sharper in words and reality. You thought of him cursing you, of holding his touch hostage and making you come apart cruelly empty of his skin. It was as if you were summoning something old and dark, drawing him more completely to you with each ritual. Everytime you came with his name in your mouth, another hook sunk and dragged him in. 

As if whatever had placed him there had taken its time, pulling pieces of him into your head until even when you were conscious, it was impossible to keep him from slipping into the forefront of your mind. 

And now that you’d been given a taste of it—of relief from the awful pit that drained you dry and was never satisfied—you were shaking again, ravenous like a starved animal with the loss. 

You got the distinct feeling there would always be something standing in between you and the Commander. Always something, always something, always something keeping you just a hair's breadth apart—making sure your palms never quite touched. 

It wasn’t enough to just hate him anymore, to feel your bones shake with the need to make him feel the same pain he inflicted on you. 

In your desperate attempt to craft something to fill the void in your small existence, Kylo Ren had become the tendons and threads which knitted you together into one, cohesive whole. 

You needed all of him, unencumbered, uninterrupted, raw and real with his teeth sunk into you. 

And really, how wrong was that?

Well, you knew the answer was most likely very wrong. But there was a reason you were good at your job and it wasn’t because you were in possession of a perfectly functioning code of ethics. 

You breathed in the salt spray off the sea and let it coat your lungs. The crashing of the waves rumbled in your chest like a drum beat, steady, sure, and comforting. No matter what, there would always be other worlds, other oceans, other lives that kept going even when yours did not. 

You were falling asleep, eyelids heavy and dropping every few seconds. 

And soon, you would dream. 

*** 

_He was standing at the end of a dark hallway, just barely silhouetted by the strips of moonlight filtering through the windows. His back was to you, so you called his name softly. When he turned, his face was blessedly bare and pale and shocked._

_“What are you doing here?” Kylo hissed._

_You stared in confusion as he moved swiftly down the hall, grabbing your arm and tugging until you stumbled behind him into a side passage._

_The second he stopped you wrenched your hand from his grasp._

_“What are you talking about?” you snapped and he whirled on you, massive, gloved hand clamping down over your mouth._

_“Keep your voice down,” he said, caging you against the wall._

_The tip of his nose brushed against yours as he spoke. Your cries of protest were muffled by the soft leather, its smoke stained taste invading your tongue when you tried to speak. Shaking your head in his grasp, you maneuvered one of his fingers between your lips and bit down, hard. The fabric caught on your teeth as he ripped his hand away and cursed._

_“Fuck, you—!” a small trickle of blood dripped from the hole in his glove where your teeth had torn at the flesh. His eyes were venomous, “I told you not to leave your room.”_

_“I didn’t—” you were cut off abruptly as voices began to echo down the abandoned corridor._

_You both stared wide eyed at each other as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. Quickly, he stepped forward, pressing both your bodies flat against the wall. You didn’t dare breathe as two figures passed by your hiding spot in the shadows and entered the door at the end of the hall._

_Kylo was so close you could see his throat move as he swallowed, his chest right up against your face, the scent of him washing over you. Something hard was pressing into your thigh. You convinced yourself it was just his saber, despite the warm pulsing you felt every time you twitched against him._

_He was looking down at you, lips parted as though he might speak, but the voices filtering out from under the door drowned anything he might have said._

_“Representative, we can’t be too hasty.”_

_Each word dripped down your spine leaving a viscous and greasy trail. You knew that voice._

_An example._

_But why would you be dreaming about Gahl and his so-called advisor?_

_“You aren’t dreaming,” Kylo whispered, exasperation clear as he spoke. His eyes bored into you, leaving behind painful trails wherever they darted across your skin. “Now shut your mouth before you get us caught.”_

_His hand found your mouth again, his fingers prying it open and pressing hard down on your tongue. You gagged around them, the iron of his blood coating your teeth as he pulled harshly down on your jaw. It ached and popped but no sound escaped._

_You’d read somewhere before that you can’t feel pain in your dreams, but you certainly felt that._

He was right. Not a dream then. 

You swallowed around Kylo’s fingers, hints of metal and smokey leather dripping down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as they stretched around him. The warm, hard presence at your thigh ground into you by an almost imperceptible inch. 

“You said if we took the girl, he’d come.” 

It was Gahl this time, his voice rougher around the edges with age. You found yourself letting your hips curiously rock up just a hair while you listened for the slight hitch in the Commander’s breath you knew so well. 

Your heart nearly stopped at the sound—not his saber. 

“Ren will come sir,” Atreus purred. “I’m sure of it.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Gahl sounded unconvinced. 

You sucked lightly, letting your tongue trace a slow line in the gap between Kylo’s fingers. He growled low into your ear, “Behave.” 

_Yeah_ , you thought, _it’s really gonna be me who gives us away._

“I saw it sir, when he was here before, the girl was in his head.” 

That gave you pause, and you narrowed your eyes searching his face for any reaction. He remained blank but for the slight crease in his brow, and the shaking of his breath. Your mind raced at the implication. You’d certainly been aware that the Commander was constantly in your head, but you were almost entirely sure Kylo Ren hadn’t given you a second thought until very recently. 

“I still don’t understand what is so remarkable about that woman,” Gahl grumbled from behind the door. 

Well you certainly weren’t going to argue with him on that, although it felt a little unnecessary to keep bringing up just how expendable you were. 

“I can’t explain it either sir, but he’ll come for her. And if he doesn’t, her death will prove to be more than motivating enough to draw him in.” 

You felt like gagging at every word leaving that man's mouth. Kylo’s fingers in your mouth turned sour the longer you listened. 

“You had better not be wrong, Atreus,” Gahl warned, his tone darker and sharper than you’d ever heard from the old man. “I want that masked idiot dead and the First Order at my feet by the end of this election cycle.”

Every muscle in your body was tensed, clenched and pulled taught like a coil, your jaw clicked as you worked against the intrusion in your mouth. Suddenly the scent of him was too much—the air hanging heavy in your lungs and never quite exhaling fully. 

Gods, Kylo Ren really was the source of all your turmoil. 

Your tongue and teeth and lips pushed and bit against his fingers until he finally pulled them from your mouth. 

You were going to die here—you were going to die here and it wouldn’t mean anything. They were right, you were unimportant and your death would be nothing more than a blip in the First Order’s radar. And somehow Kylo Ren had managed to put you right in the middle of the crossfire. 

You needed to get away, couldn’t bear to hear whatever came next.

“Get off me,” you hissed, wrestling against his hands trying to keep you in place. 

“Stay still—” His voice was sandpaper on your skin and you needed to leave, had to leave, had to get as far away as possible— 

“I said,” you managed to position your hands squarely on his chest and shoved with a surprising amount of force, “get off me!”

Kylo Ren stumbled, actually stumbled back and stared at you with an awful, bitter cocktail of shock and anger and something else you didn’t have the time or patience to place. Father down the hall, a door was opening and voices approached from the hall. 

Everything faded to black far before you ever heard what they said. 

***

You were on your feet before you could even open your eyes. 

The sea was calling and you were going to listen, the small stones of the shoreline sinking between your toes as you rushed down the small path from your room. Waves were crashing in pairs when you finally made it to the water's edge, stripping your evening clothes off piece by piece like shedding skin, needing to be free. 

Free of nothing. 

Free of everything. 

The salt spray churned and rolled over your ankles and calves as you waded out into the sea. Something was pulling you, stronger than the currents, tugging you out into deeper water and you let it until your head sank below the surface and the sound of muted thunder waves roiling was a cacophony in your head. 

You were drifting, mind and body being tossed about. 

Confused—reality doesn’t have a clear border anymore and you couldn’t be sure what had happened and what hadn't, what should have happened but didn’t. 

Scared—you didn’t want to die, it wasn’t something you’d thought of before despite the nature of your employment, but you realized now that it was never your strength or wit keeping you alive, just luck. 

Angry—boiling inside at the thought of your unshakeable insignificance.

 _Angry_ —unwilling to die over the wounded pride of men who constantly underestimated you.

 **Angry** —at yourself for inexplicably wanting one of them anyway. 

You let out your breath and screamed. Let the bubbles leave your mouth in a rush of air and pent up frustrations. The rumbling shock of diluted soundwaves reverberated in your chest. You shrieked until your ears popped and your lungs were empty and water rushed to fill the vacuum left behind. 

And for a few moments, when nothing remained inside you and the world was in a strange, unbalanced limbo, you felt it. Inside that crater within your soul that wept and lamented its lacking, there was a spark. Something bright and firecracker red like a lost ember which had forgotten the fire of its youth. 

And you knew what you needed to do to feed it, to let it burn, to fill yourself to the brim and overflow with totality. 

Your head broke the surface like an eggshell, water streaming into your eyes as you gasped in lungfuls of wind off the sea. Someone was shouting for you. Far on the shoreline, a massive black silhouette stood bathed in starshine and the moon. 

It took a moment for you to realize he was yelling at you.

“What are you doing?!” 

His voice barely carried over the rushing water and the sound of your arms splashing to keep you afloat. 

“None of your business,” you called, turning to swim farther out into the depths. 

You could hear his frustrated shout as the waves kicked up over his boots. 

“Get back here,” he snarled. 

You weren’t able to make out his face, but you were sure his lips were pulled back, bearing crooked teeth ready to rip your throat out. 

He might do just that with a little coaxing. That was fine with you. Your anger was one meant to be shared. 

“Make me.” 

You could feel him snapping even as you drifted deeper out to sea. He was fraying, about to break and you wanted it. Wanted him drowning in the same turmoil as you. 

“You want me to make you?” he was raging now, hands tearing at his clothes, “You want me to fucking make you?”

You watched as he was revealed to you and tumbled into the surf, incoherent fury sapping all the grace from his steps—demise personified parting the waters. 

The moon glinted off Kylo’s skin and he practically glowed with it. In spite of yourself, you thought he looked every bit a prince, so painfully handsome in his own, strange way–inimitable and all the more lovely for it. Inky black water swirled and the breakers crashed against the bare expanse of his chest, like the sea itself was desperate to steal a taste of him.

Something within you–scarlet and glimmering–stirred. 

Something that ached. 

Something that yearned. 

Something hungry.

You watched him wade towards where you were floating, felt the current shift and draw you to him like a sinking ship. In his eyes you saw that same spark, red and crackling and alive. There was a beast in his bones and it smiled. 

And you knew, you would let it take you. 

But not without a fight. 

You kicked and struggled against the Force pulling you to him, not certain if he was the one controlling it or if it had its own mind and movement. But it was a futile effort either way. He was on you in seconds, fingers like claws grasping your ankle and ripping you through the water to him. 

He growled and grabbed a fistful of your hair, dragging your head underwater without warning. But you flailed and felt your foot connect with the hard plane of his stomach and his grip on you slipped. 

“This is your fault,” you screeched when you came up again. 

He was heavier than you, larger and sunk faster in the deep water. You maneuvered your hands into his hair as well while he tried to stay above the surface and yanked him down—shouts turned to bubbles—until he raked his nails across your bare chest and the sharp pain made you let go. 

Kylo’s head connected with your jaw as he came spluttering to the surface and your mouth flooded with the metallic taste of blood. It dripped from your lips in a stream and you spat out a mess of red stained sea water, watching it splattered over his handsome face in rivulets. 

“You brought this on yourself, you arrogant little slut,” he roared, shaking your shoulders in his hands until the back of your hand cracked across his face. 

“I’m the slut?!” you shrieked. “You can’t even be in the same room with me without your dick getting hard!”

He was right now too, you could feel the prominent, warm pressure of his cock slotted against your stomach. And whether or not there was a heat building between your thighs at the thought of it was neither here nor there. 

Blood still dripped down your chin as you both ripped at each other's hair, slippery with sea salt and plastered to your skulls. 

“You think I can’t hear you begging for me,” his face is so close you can see all the hairline scars that ran through it, connecting the dots between his freckles. 

Your nose brushed against his, “I’m not the one avoiding the subject!”

His knee slipped hard into the space between your legs and you yelped. 

“You have no idea what’s at stake here,” he gritted through his teeth. 

“My life, asshole,” you bristled. “I’m gonna die here trying to fix the mess you started!”

Neither of you spoke after the words died on your lips, just floating and gasping with the exertion of staying afloat. In the following silence, with the adrenaline pounding behind your ears, Kylo’s eyes were locked onto yours—black pools like the dark water. 

Seconds passed and you let whatever dying flame was inside your chest grow until its heat under your skin was blistering and driving you forward into the only thing that would offer any relief. 

Kylo’s lips were plump and soft under yours as they crashed together, your teeth clacking with the impact. It didn’t matter, not when his tongue licking into your mouth was the most soothing sensation you’d ever felt. 

His hands were frantic, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh and pulling you as close to him as possible, leaving no inch of skin untouched. Your legs wound around his hips, locking ankles just above the lovely curve of his ass. He groaned into your lips and you felt it in your bones. 

_Tell me_ , he spoke in your head, and it felt as though he had always belonged there. 

Your ribs were cracking open to let him spill in, to fill in all the holes that riddled you. 

_Tell me_ , he repeated again and it sounded like praying. 

His teeth caught your lip, sucking blood into his mouth so you could be inside him too. And he was so hot against you, all pale naked and sinful. You’d never realized someone could feel so solid, so painfully real and not just a trick of the light in your mind. Arms of pure, corded muscle locked around your back and crushed you to him as his feet found purchase on the soft sand. 

The sea was spitting you back onto the shoreline, waves crashing over your entangled limbs. It was no longer clear where you ended and Kylo began. 

It was not close enough. 

_Kylo_ , you whimpered hoping the connection went both ways and he would hear you too. 

_I’m here_ , you felt the pebbles of the beach kick up as he stood out of the surf and walked you up the beach. _I’m here, tell me._

His mouth never ceased to move against yours, biting, sucking, drinking you down to soothe the burn of the salt. Between your bodies, his cock was twitching. And now that you were blessedly free of the water, you could feel yourself dripping with need for him. 

You’d been this close once before, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. 

Kylo walked you up the beach, kneeling down in front of his pile of discarded clothes and landing in a heap on top of you. He ground his hips down, the tip of his length catching on your clit. The sound you made was inhuman, pure desire. 

The rocks of the beach bit into your back through his cloak, but you hardly noticed when his lips wandered down your neck. He growled and sunk his teeth into the flesh between your shoulder and neck, sucking a mark into your skin you would never be able to hide. 

You reared up, ready to paint more bruises on his skin when a hand closed around your throat and slammed you back into the earth. 

_Tell me or you can’t touch_ , he groaned. 

You huffed and whined when he pinned your wrists in one hand above your head. No matter how hard you pulled, you couldn’t break his grip and you knew before he must have been letting you hit and kick and scratch at him. Must have liked it. 

You squirmed at the thought. 

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, other hand skimming up to palm at your breasts. Kylo’s mouth closed over a nipple, rolling it on his tongue and nipping when you bucked your hips into him. 

You watched him lap at your skin, loving the wet streaks he left behind. 

_I hate you_ , you shot back. 

He smirked against your chest and moved on to torment your other breast, all the while grinding his cock between your soaked lips, coating himself in you. 

_Lying won’t get you anywhere,_ he punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust over your clit. 

The slide of it was delicious and maddening and you needed more. 

_I’m not lying,_ you said, although the string of moans leaving your mouth when he circled the tip of his dick over your entrance was not at all convincing.He pushed in just barely, never hard enough to actually grant you any relief. 

_I know a lie when I hear one,_ his voice was velvet and it was driving you off the edge. 

But you would fight till the very end. It was one of your few redeeming qualities. 

_Fuck you._

_That’s a bit more accurate, yes._

He chuckled darkly resting his head on your sternum so he could watch as you helplessly rolled your hips while his cock remained frustratingly not in your pussy. 

_Fine_ , you signed and he flicked his eyes back to your face. 

Kylo’s movements stilled and he pulled his hands back, leaning down to rest on his elbows above you. Some of his pretty sea-curled hair tickled your nose. 

“I _I_ want _want_ you _you_ ,” you whispered feeling it echo through whatever presence was allowing you to transfer your thoughts without really speaking. 

His breath hitched in that beautiful way that you loved. 

And then you were screaming—really truly screaming—his hand clamping down on your mouth to stifle the noise. 

But the wave of otherworldly pleasure and searing pain that washed over you when he thrust his hips, cock sinking into your cunt to the hilt in one swift motion was entirely too much bare. 

Though, Kylo was not faring much better. His face fell into the crook of your neck and he groaned into the skin. He didn’t move for a few moments, and you felt your walls tighten around him. He was massive, you’d known that, but never had you expected to feel so full.

You cared very little then, about whether or not you were going to die on this godforsaken planet, not if he could fuck you like this. Not if you got to feel Kylo Ren in every conceivable part of your body. 

He let out a shaky breath into your neck and pulled himself up. 

“I’m going to ruin you,” he gasped, drawing his cock out of you until only the tip remained sheathed in your warmth. “Ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else.” 

Kylo slammed back into you, making your tits bounce as his hips slapped against your ass. You knew he was right. There would be no coming back from this—for him or you. 

“No one will ever feel like I do,” you retorted, clenching harder around him as he worked up a steady rhythm. 

You watched the muscles in his abdomen twitch as you tightened yourself and he reared back on his knees, grabbing your waist with his massive hands and hoisting your lower body off the ground. 

The new angle stretched you even more and every thrust caught that elusive spot inside you that had your thighs trying to snap shut against his hips. 

“Fuck, Kylo!” you cried, as shameless as always. 

“What?” he grunted. “You want it harder? Want me deeper?”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you babbled, needing anything he would give you. 

Kylo delivered on your request. You felt him in your stomach, each thrust was quick and sharp and angled just right and you had never felt anything like you did now. 

He was in your head still, his presence was warm and glowed a dim, sultry red that made your mind hazy—illuminated parts of yourself you’d thought were forgotten. Passion, that’s what he felt like, deep and forbidden. Delicious truth. 

“You keep saying you aren’t a whore, but look how well you’re taking my cock,” Kylo mused. 

You knew you were in his head too, could feel yourself leaking in through the cracks. He was thinking about how magnificent your pussy felt swallowing his length, how badly he wanted to cum in you, claim you and make you keep his release inside. 

There was fear there too. 

Longing and something darker. 

You wanted to take it away. 

“Only for you,” you muttered between thrusts, crying out when the Force loosed it tendrils over your skin. A shapeless finger rolled and teased your clit while two others kneaded at your chest. 

“You’re a whore just for me?” he was coming unhinged, you could sense it in the way his cock was pulsing in you. 

You nodded, bringing a hand to rest over his on your waist.

“Good girl.” 

He threw his head back, and you admired the lovely angle of his throat against the night sky. The Force on your clit was unrelenting and you wouldn’t last much longer, the tight coil of pleasure was building in your gut and spreading through your veins like quicksilver. 

“Kylo, I’m gonna—” you were cut off by his hand grabbing you by the hair and crushing you up into his chest. 

He sat your ass on his knees and lifted you up, dragging you back down onto his cock. You were like a rag doll in his hands as he wrapped his arms around your back and slammed you down. There was no space left between your bodies, nothing but the slide of your sweat slicked skin and his breath on your face. 

Even surrounded by the scent of sex and the sea you could still smell fresh mint lingering on his tongue. 

That might have been what finally sent you toppling over the edge. Or maybe it was the look on his face—brows furrowed and lips parted in a pleasure only you could bring him. Or maybe it was just the finality of it all. 

That Kylo Ren was unequivocally and irreparably linked to you now in some way. Be it through the blood in your mouths or his cock painting your insides with cum as you sobbed and clenched around him, circling in a feedback loop of each other’s orgasm. He was panting in your ear, spewing curses you couldn’t comprehend and fucking you through your release and his. 

This was something bigger than it seemed, you knew it when you heard him grunt your name while his mouth latched back on to the mark on your neck. Knew it when the glowing red presence in your head didn’t fade and the empty feeling you’d called friend all these years didn’t return. 

Knew it when he let you stay wrapped in his arms for a few precious seconds, his softening length still filling you with its pleasant, stinging warmth. 

Knew it when you felt the softest press of his lips to your neck when he lifted his head and pressed yours to his chest with a massive hand. 

His heart beat steadily under all the bone and sinew. 

It wasn’t until then that you became consciously aware he had one. 

“You aren’t going to die,” he whispered. 

And you wished you could believe him. Almost said so, but the words never came out, got lost somewhere in between your lips and how his skin was so much softer than you ever imagined it would be. Then he was pressing two fingers to your temple, a wave of unwilling sleep falling over you in a lovely, red blanket. 

And this time, you didn’t dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THaaaaaaaaank you so much for reading! I sold my soul for this fic boys. If you liked it please comment or some talk to me on tumblr @star-killer-md! Also, I'm pretty knew the the long fic/smut writing game, so if y'all have any theories or kinks you'd like to see me incorporate, please let me know! I promise it's gonna get sexier from here on out. Stay safe y'all <3333


	6. Stars fading but I linger on dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many questions are had, and very few are answered. You've crossed a line and there is no going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, so um, I'm just gonna leave this, whatever the hell it is, here. This fic has a mind of its own and honestly I have no clue where its fucking taking me. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

He was looking at you.

Really looking at you. 

Hadn’t until now. 

But that wasn’t completely true. Of course he’d _looked_ at you—noticed you, heard all the dagger sharp curses you threw his way like a child put in the corner impertinent and prideful and intoxicating in a way that pain often is. So, yes of course he’d looked, but you hadn’t been important. 

And that was not to say that you were important now, just that— 

Just that the sea was churning behind him, crashing against the shoreline and the Force was stirring. It was a wild thing, and sung like the insects hiding in the nearby treeline. He could feel the pull of it, like a chain that swung in the small space between your bodies. Connecting your throats—growing every shorter—rubbing him raw and bloody. 

It was in you, whatever _it_ was that tethered him like a boat to the harbor. 

He was inside you too

 _“No one will ever feel like I do.”_

That’s what you’d said. 

You were right, as much as he was loath to admit it, no one had ever felt the way you did clenching around him.

There was something primal that made him ravenous to pour himself into you. He was always too much too full to _angryangryangry_ every waking second. Now, finally, it all had some place to go. Some well to fill—a space for all his extra self to belong.

For once, he found there was nothing more than the sound of the sea inside his head. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that revelation.

Who were you? What were you hiding and where was it buried? 

Kylo needed to know and you were there, already limp and pliant with no jumbled slur of raging thoughts to cloud his path. 

He found that slipping into your mind was one of the easiest things he’d ever done, like following the current of flowing water. Drifting in as if carried by the waves. 

Flashes of memories rushed past him, mostly just amalgamations of indecipherable emotion—fathoms of pent up aggression Kylo was forced to wade through in order to reach the black depths of your head. At every turn he was met with his own face staring back at him. 

He saw his saber, swinging in a red arch into durasteel paneling, saw himself through your eyes. Felt your awe, felt the stirring in your chest at the sight. He pushed on.

Past shots of offices he’d never seen, a barrage of falsely smiling faces, teeth gnashing, always hungry. He was walking down an endless grey hallway lined with First Order uniforms all towering over him—you—looking down, casting judgement like arrows in his back. Frustration morphed and twisted into a thick sludge of resentment that bubbled and clung to his feet. 

With every pop a voice escaped, shouting “ _everything, everything, everything_ ” in a sick, distorted roar. 

And then he found it, the source of the muck that caked his path. A pit, deep and black as pitch that spit up it’s roiling contents and dragged him tumbling down, down, down.

He could barely make it out at first, but as he fell the dim red glow grew bright, crackling and electric and throwing sparks. At the bottom of the well the light bloomed like a pyre, some flaming effigy of pure potential. The heat of it licked at his skin, tracing the edges of every scar like it knew them.

Maybe it did. 

Something like a shockwave rolled out through the Force, and he backed away from the raging flames. Back, back, back until he was kneeling again on the shoreline, your cooling body still pressed firmly to his chest.

The feeling of your weight, not cold and dead, but with life still in your limbs was alien to him. Kylo battled internally with the instinct to throw you off him to the ground. He could leave you here, go and wait or never come back at all. 

It would be easy. 

He could see it now: 

Your face twisted, lips pulled back and teeth bared like you weren’t half his size. Like he couldn’t snap your neck with a wave of his hand. He imagined you naked, covered in dried blood and bruises bursting onto your balcony, tits on full display and your finger in his chest, vitriol spewing from your mouth. 

It was comical really, how you puffed up like an animal threatened, small but vicious. 

Yet even as he considered the scene, his aching knees were unlocking and shifting you, soft cock slipping out in a gush of your combined releases. Kylo swung your legs easily over one arm and climbed back up the beach towards your room.

The sun was starting to rise over the sea, casting gilded strips along its surface when he laid your limp form on the bed. Your skin was marbled with the evidence of your coupling and shone in the light. 

Kylo stood silently above you, the ocean breeze occasionally ruffling his damp hair as he brought a hesitant hand to his jaw. The skin was swollen from when you’d raised your hand to him. His fingers dug into the bruise, and the stinging ache of it made his cock twitch. Your face, twisted and snarling and so defiant, so foolish, inches from his before your palm cracked across his cheek. 

He dropped a hand down, stroking his half hard length and remembering how your thighs felt crushing his ribcage between them. His hips twitched up into his hand in slow, languid thrusts, precum and your residual slick easing the slide of his palm. 

You weren’t afraid to fight back.

Kylo’s teeth tore at his bottom lip as he pumped his cock in earnest now. 

You weren’t afraid of _him_ , he realized. But you should be. 

Especially now with how his mind was supplying all the numerous ways he could beat you into submission—fuck you into submission. God he’d love to watch you crack, it would truly be a feat worthy of celebration to break the will of a creature such as yourself. 

But he couldn’t deny—certainly not while he’s jerking himself faster thinking of how delicious your wet cunt felt around him—that he liked when you bit back. 

His name rolling off your tongue was ricocheting around in his brain and he was sure it was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard in his life, that he would never get enough of it. He’d known that since the very first time he heard it, when you opened yourself up to him and came in his mouth, on his fingers. 

A familiar warmth was building in his stomach as he thought of all the ways he could make you say it again. Thought of dipping into your head and erasing everything else but that. So it was the only word you knew. 

_That_ sent him, made him spill over his hand, white ropes of his cum painting your breasts. You looked good like that, he thought as he worked himself through his orgasm, breath rasping in his chest. 

When he was well and truly spent, he let his overstimulated cock settle back against his thigh and dropped a hand to your chest. His palm spanned nearly the entire width of you, fingers swirling in the mess of his release and rubbing it into your abused skin until you were perfectly glazed in him. The sheen of it glinted in the light, a reminder that you’d been marked and would never know how completely he coated every inch of your body. 

Even as the darkness whispered into his mind that this was potential, this was uncharted, this was the dragon that hid in the corners of ancient maps filled with unknown stars, Kylo didn’t tear his eyes away. Didn’t pull his hand from your breast where his fingers dug into the flesh and made their home. 

Not until the sun had fully risen and you began to stir from the Force induced sleep he’d buried you under. 

Not until the very last moment. 

***

You woke to the sound of rushing water. It was dim though, out of focus like an echo nearly faded away. Your eyes were lead in your skull, struggling against opening to the soft light filtering into— 

Well into where you weren’t exactly sure. 

Thoughts were elusive and seemed to slip from your grasp or sit constantly out of reach. Details stood blurry behind a layer of foggy confusion. It was as if your brain had been frozen and restarted like one of the old monitors on the Bridge, leaving important documents to close improperly. You pushed incessantly against the film that seemed to separate you from full awareness until, finally, it popped and the world came flooding in.

Light, bright and all encompassing was stinging your eyes through the open balcony doors. The smell of salt and sand and sweat was everywhere. You were laying on your bed, the spot next to you cold and vacant—never occupied. Your chest and bare thighs were sticky as you peeled them apart and tried to sit up, feeling the uncomfortable squelch of something leaking from you onto the sheets. 

And then you _ached._

The deep kind of pain that extends past your muscles and sent nerves misfiring with every movement. There was not a single inch of you free from the pulsating burn of it. You laid out flat on the mattress, moving your head as slowly as possible to take stock of the damages. Bruises littered you, mottled you in painful stripes. With every new mark catalogued another memory drifted to the surface:

 _Hips,_ his hands surrounding your waist to lift you clear off the ground, his cock slipping ever deeper inside. 

_Breasts,_ where the Force and his fingers had cupped and palmed and rolled pleasure into your flesh. 

_Chest,_ his bitten nails that scratched large welts which stung when you breathed in. 

_Legs,_ how he’d ripped you through the churning water and pressed deep into the meat of your thighs. 

_Neck,_ you could feel the dull throb of where he’d bitten into the skin, sucked hard and marked you with a small supernova of broken capillaries. 

But the sting between your legs topped the rest. He truly had split you in half, his cock massive and leaving you clenching to your very core in its absence. His cum still dripped out of you in a slow stream. If this was the recompense you bore, there was no telling what he must look like. 

You recalled the sole of your foot connecting with muscle and bone, the crack of your palm on his sculpted cheeks. 

The way his mouth tasted, the fullness of his lips and how warm he was pressed against you with no space in between. The desperation for him, the sweet sting of him moving inside you, sinking into you, the fullness, the absolution. The presence of him not just in your body but in your mind, in your being, the relief of it—like the first breath after years of asphyxiation. 

You could feel him still, you realized, a tingle at the back of your neck. A soft, comforting thump when you closed your eyes. Like a heartbeat. Kylo Ren’s heartbeat, faint but present, evidence of mortal flesh and blood. Your head on his chest, his voice a hush under the roaring sea. 

_“You aren’t going to die.”_

It felt like a promise, and maybe it was.

But really, how long could you expect him to keep it?

And that was just the first of many questions. So many questions. 

The sound of water was not the ocean, but the shower you realized and it filled the room with a hazy steam from the crack in the door. You thought about joining him for just a second, indulged in the idea of seeing him bare. Seeing the wounds he bore, the ones he let you put there. 

But there was no time for that now, unfortunate though it was. 

Instead, you tumbled out of bed onto shaky knees that nearly gave way as you looked around for something to cover yourself with, grabbing the first piece of clothing available. It was Kylo’s, you noticed as you tugged the massive black shirt over your head and watched it fall well past your thighs.

It smelled like him. You tried not to think about it too much. 

You sifted through the mess of clothing on the floor and finally located your bag and datapad, tripping over yourself to crawl back onto the mattress. New messages flashed on the screen, although strangely none originating from the First Order. Each one another of Gahl’s staff asking you for speech revisions to be approved by the advisory committee and the last one a reminder of the day’s worth of meetings with campaign staff. 

You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t really the meetings themselves that bothered you, that was routine, muscle memory at this point. But it was harder now, harder to sit still and spit out pretty fake chuckles to every pompous politician's horrid sense of humor, harder to slip in silent ultimatums when there was a knife positioned squarely at your back. When you could never truly tell who would be the one to twist the blade or at what point you would have outlasted your usefulness. 

At what point it was your turn to become the next example of what pride does to the body. 

No amount of whispered half covenants would be able to stop that, regardless of which masked, saber-wielding commander they came from. 

Sighing, you tried to quell the constriction in your throat and typed away quick, formulaic responses. A few minutes passed until you heard the shower putter out and the soft sounds of the Commander dressing. He didn’t look at you when he pulled the door open and stepped into the room, shirtless this time and sporting a dark purple starburst that dipped below the waistband of his pants and circled over the ‘v’ of his hips. 

You tensed at the memory of your bodies twisting in the surf and glanced away as he silently dug through his discarded clothes. 

“That looks like it hurts,” you said, just to break the uncomfortable quiet. 

Kylo regarded you in your seat by the headboard, eyes narrowing just a bit when he straightened and crossed the room. He stood by your side, taking the hem of his shirt between his fingers for just a second. 

You felt him hum in your head, not nearly as loud as it was the night before, but still there—a pleasant weight in your chest. He liked the look of you drowning in his clothes. Liked the way you disappeared into them. Liked the reminder of how you fit well in the space he left behind. Felt his hand rip away like it had been burned. 

“It doesn’t,” he said and turned his back to you. 

As if you could hurt him. 

You felt yourself flush at his response, electing to simply watch as he plucked another top from one of the piles and tugged it over his head. You lamented silently at the loss, earning you a sharp glare from the man in question. Well, at least he was giving you some indication now that he heard you. 

“Yes,” he sighed, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. “You’re incredibly loud.” 

Crossing your legs, you sat the datapad aside and leaned back against the headboard. 

“Oh, well my apologies,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m not exactly familiar with how _this_ works.” 

He scoffed at your hand gesturing between the two of you, “I’m well aware.” 

“Is being as aggravating as possible a personal goal of yours or something?” 

Kylo’s hand shot out, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed. Before you had the chance to register the stab of pain that accompanied the sudden movement, you were situated firmly on his lap, thighs spread uncomfortably on either side of his hips. 

“Is being a defiant little brat one of yours?” he retorted, one hand gripping hard on your jaw. 

You tensed your legs against the searing ache and dug one of your knees into the bruise on his side, “Only for you, sir.” 

The hand on your jaw slipped down to wrap around your throat, clamping down on the vein there and you felt the surge of blood that rushed to his dick at the memory those words elicited. He liked them in your mouth, he couldn’t hide that anymore and it frustrated him, enraged him that you smiled at the thought. Stars, you supposed if you kept mouthing off like that Atreus would have to speed things up before Ren killed you for him. 

Kylo’s fingers twitched around your neck, eyes flicking to the mark he’d left on the joining of your throat and shoulder which had slipped entirely from his shirt. He seemed to be debating with himself before dropping his head and sucking the abused skin back into his mouth. 

Your fingers slipped instinctively into his hair. Whether you were trying to yank him off or push him closer, you weren’t sure but then his jagged teeth sunk into the worried flesh and you whined like something wild at the display of dominance and acknowledgment that last night had been more than just another dream.

When Kylo finished with you, he stayed soothing cool mint breaths into the sensitive skin under his lips. You wanted to ask him what it meant—the mark, the beach, the newly filled to the brim, shaking in your fingers feeling blooming into existence in the intercostal spaces of your ribs—but you knew he’d never answer that. 

Luckily, the waiting game was your specialty. There was no one better than you at playing the long con. He’d crack eventually, they always did. So you hid your ace and plaid something a bit safer.

“How did I find you in the hall last night?”

The Commander huffed against you, lifting his head to nip sharply at your earlobe. 

“Projecting,” he conceded.

“What does that mean?”

His hands drifted to your hips, digging in and forcing you off his lap and onto the floor. The wood dug into your knees and pressed valleys into the skin. Kylo motioned with a hand and his boots obediently floated over and settled in front of you kneeling between his legs. You frowned as he stared down at you blankly and his command dawned on you. 

“Really?” you asked, unable to keep the incredulity off of your tongue.

He lifted his brows and rolled his lips together, and you found yourself understanding with terrifying clarity what that meant. If you were going to play games so would he, and Kylo’s preferred method always seemed to be humiliation in some form. 

Jokes on him, you thought with a shrug. You had very little dignity left to be squashed under his boots which you ripped from the air by your head. His feet were massive, nearly the size of your thigh as you slipped one into the rough leather. 

“Consciousness can be detached from the physical body,” Kylo explained. 

His voice lacked any of its usual rasp or vitriol, he was simply saying the words, not forcing them out. You thought he’d make a good teacher if he wasn’t such an—

The boot in your lap ground down harshly into the especially sore spot between your thighs covered only by his thin black shirt. Your cunt ached as he pressed the toe of his boot into your clit. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you kept your mouth shut and nodded for him to continue, pulling taught all the laces from his ankle to calf. The muscles were impossibly hard under your fingers 

“The Force can allow you to take advantage of that separation,” he continued, swapping feet when you’d finished the first, “so physically you remained here, and your consciousness was able to project elsewhere.”

Your hands guided his foot past the leather straps and hastened through the last few laces. When the last was tied off, you tried to knock his leg to the side, but he pressed it back between your legs, smearing you with rocky earth and grinding his heel once more on your slit.

“So everything we overheard then, that was real?” you continued, voice strained as you squirmed out of his reach. Shockingly, he let you. 

Kylo shrugged examining your slick stain on the leather, “Projection involves a real place and time. Dreams are more abstract.”

You nodded, pulling the fabric tighter around your knees. 

“What did he mean?” you asked quietly. 

You were pushing your luck, pushing his buttons really but he should be expecting that by now. He owed you this, reparations for months of workplace abuse. 

Kylo stared at you, his erection still obscenely on display from your view on the floor. 

“Atreus, he said I was ‘in your head,’” you elaborated and Kylo nearly kicked your teeth in with how quickly he stood.

“That’s enough,” he grunted. 

You watched on the ground as he walked out onto the balcony. The wind combed through the black waves on his head revealing whitecaps of pale, freckled profile to peek out. You decided to quit while you were ahead, letting him stew. This was the most he’d ever spoken to you in the years you’d worked as his one-woman political clean up crew. Maybe you’d celebrate when there wasn’t a hit out on you. 

Stretching out, your eyes caught his mask staring at you dead and resolute from the small night stand. It was heavier than you expected, lined with deep ridges and scars just like the man who wore it. 

Head wounds were almost always fatal. Just one blow to the soft flesh of the temple and that was it, end of discussion. They taught you that at the academy. Always aim for the head. You traced the cracks on its carbon black surface and tried to imagine all the people who’d aimed for the Commander’s head, aimed to land the killing blow and failed. You thought of his toothpaste sitting in the vanity in the bathroom. You thought of the bruises on his chest and the blood that had pooled under his pretty skin to cause them. You thought of Kylo Ren dying. 

You put the helmet down, pulled yourself off the floor and left Ren to his thoughts.

The bathroom was still thick with steam when you started the shower running. You stripped his shirt from your back and folded it on the sink before stepping in. The hot water felt glorious as it pounded the soreness from your skin. Your fingers brushed carefully over the abstract painting of bruises, the mark on your neck particularly stark in your hazy reflection in the wall of mirrors facing the shower.

You should have expected the Commander would enjoy marking his territory. 

Not that you were in any way his territory. 

The idea of it certainly didn’t cause a shiver to run down your spine. 

When you’d washed the silt and grime down the drain and dried yourself, you left the bathroom and dressed quietly. Your outfit was professional and understated, not drawing the eye and covering last nights events without being suspiciously modest. Kylo didn’t move or speak until you drifted out to the balcony to commune before your meetings began. You leaned against the rail next to him. 

“Do you know anything about him?” you asked, gazing out at the waves as the rose and crashed and rose again. 

“No,” he responded, and you were thankful you didn’t have to say the name. 

It felt greasy in your mouth.

“Right,” your eyes closed against the salty wind, “well I suppose I’ll do some digging then. Know thy enemy and all that.” 

He glanced at you, a full once over and nodded in dismissal. You shook your head and turned to head out, shouting back to him over your shoulder. 

“Remember,” only your head remained peeking through the crack in the door, “don’t leave this room.” 

The door slammed behind you with a crack. Well, he was developing a pattern to say the least, you thought as you wandered down the hall to the drawing room.

***

You did your best to conceal the limp in your step as you entered, slipping easily into the small crowd of legislative staffers and scanning the room. Gahl was nowhere to be seen and neither was his ‘advisor.’ Immediately you felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. You consistently spent among crowds of men who frequently murdered people for political gain, however, you’d miscalculated how much harder it would be to keep your cool when your life was the one on the line. 

The room was bright and airy, a small table was lined with furiously dainty finger food which you perused but found no appetite for. You sighed and moved on, trying to decide which inane conversation to insert yourself into when one found you first. 

“Good morning,” an increasingly familiar voice spoke from behind you. 

You turned to find Lem crossing the room and leaving behind a group of idly chatting aides. 

“Hello,” you plastered a smile on your face in greeting as he saddled up. “The Representative chose not to grace us with his presence I see.”

He chuckled, “You really do get right down to business don’t you?”

“That is why I’m here,” you picked a tea sandwich off the table and popped it into your mouth just for the sake of the gesture. It tasted like sand in your mouth. 

“Well then, I suppose I don’t mind skipping the pleasantries if you won’t think less of me for it,” Lem conceded and turned to stand next to you, surveying the crowd. 

“In fact, I might think more of you.”

You followed suit, taking in the gaggles of people as your new companion passed you a glass of something fruity and expensive. 

“Well in that case,” he took a sip and tucked a piece of yellow hair behind his ear, “you’d be correct in your assumption, the old man’s been called away on important campaign related business.” 

“Would I be right in assuming you know more than you’re letting on?” 

Lem glanced down at you from the corner of his eye and took a sip of his drink, “I think we’re both seasoned enough players of this game to know the answer to that.”

You hummed in concession, “Can you blame me for trying?”

“No,” he admitted easily. “But considering the fact you’ve been casing me like a house for robbery I would have hoped that conclusion would have come faster. 

“I don’t know what you consider ‘casing,’ but I think you might be inflating yourself a bit there Mr. Alba,” you retorted, taking a sip and jolting a bit as the sweetness hit your tongue. 

“A politician's assistant with an enlarged ego? Never.” 

“Aren’t you a little too self aware to be in politics?” 

Beside you, Lem laughed in earnest and you frowned, looking up at him. He wasn’t nearly as large as the Commander, so your neck wasn’t forced nearly to it’s breaking point in the process. 

“You’re funny,” he said by way of explanation. “I didn’t think you’d be funny.” 

“I’m just as shocked as you are,” you mumbled as a group of people bypassed you out into the hall. 

“Well, you’re right,” Lem shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t initially intend on ending up in government work.” 

That was interesting. You felt yourself falling back into an old rhythm. Maybe Lem was onto something—if you wanted to get to Gahl, what better place to start than with the assistant. After all, if anyone wanted to know all the dirt on Hux, you were certainly the best person to ask. Why would this be any different?

“Is that so?” you prodded, hoping he’d continue on his own. 

Of course he did. These people loved to talk about themselves. 

“The Representative was a family friend and I was but a directionless youth bringing shame upon our good name,” he lamented, gesturing dramatically to a false, sympathetic audience.

“Was it kindness or pity then?” you asked, smiling and nodding to one of the campaign managers when she dipped behind you for a fruit tart. 

Lem huffed out a laugh again and shook his head, “Gahl wasn’t always like this, I recall him being far more benignant when I first started.” 

You latched on to the remorse in his tone: a soft spot in the apple. A perfect opportunity for you to worm your way in and feast on the flesh. 

“It's an occupational hazard, really,” you glanced at his profile through your lashes and caught the faintest twinkle of vulnerability in the set of his jaw, “the constant power struggle drains one dry of any remaining empathy.” 

“Hm, that’s certainly part of it,” Lem continued and downed the rest of his drink. “But he hasn’t really changed all that much until this election season.”

You’d broken the skin, now it was time to dig a bit deeper. 

“Gahl seems pretty cut and dry, from what I can tell,” you locked your thighs against the growing ache between them from standing too still for too long, “what would you say has changed?”

“Well in all the years I’ve spent working for him, I’ve never known the man to run a smear campaign, not like this one at least. Really you should have seen the ads we ran for him, absolutely brutal,” Lem was nearly ranting now, and it seemed you’d struck the nerve you’d been searching for. “And, I mean no offense, but he’d certainly never have interacted more with the Order than was strictly necessary, much less agree to meet with your Commander what-ever-his-name-is personally.” 

God you wished Commander _what-ever-his-name-is_ Ren was around to hear that. The look on his face alone would be better than any orgasm he could give you. 

“No, no, I wouldn’t do any business with us either if I could help it,” you conceded and handed Lem a second glass. 

“You’re very gracious, thank you,” he accepted the drink and sighed. 

You tried your best not to sympathize, but you were weak and soft and couldn’t quite help the pang in your chest. As lukewarm as you were about Lem Alba, you could see the bags under his eyes and the sallow pallor to his skin and you knew the look he wore too well. 

Damn your occasional need to not be a total piece of shit. 

“Trust me, I understand your frustration,” you let out a sigh of your own. 

Commanding officers were a trial. 

“And not to mention, ever since he brought on that new advisor, he’s had no need for any of my input,” Lem grumbled, pinching the bridge of his round nose. 

Well, never mind, maybe your horrible lack of apathy was going to come in handy.

“The slimy one?”

He turned to look down at you with an incredulous smile, “Yeah, that’s the one.” 

“What does he call himself?” 

“Atreus,” Lem said, rolling his eyes. “Although I’m sure that’s not his real name. He seems to get off on being dark and mysterious.” 

You could think of another person who fit that description, and both of them had wanted you dead on at least one occasion you were certain. 

“Hm,” you nodded in agreement, “any idea where he came from?”

“None such luck, he just came crawling out of the woodwork one day a few months ago and well, you’ve seen the result,” he shrugged and finished off his second glass, taking yours from your hand and setting them off to the side. “Now, fancy a walk on the beach? I believe it’s my turn to take a crack at hunting for information.”

For a moment, you contemplated the likelihood that you were being played, that Lem was some elaborate plant and today was the day of your demise. But holding you hostage leagues away from crowds would invariably ensure your death would be wasted. Couldn’t stick it to the Order if there was no one around to watch. And not to stroke your own dick, but you were very well versed in picking up on genuine animosity towards superiors. 

“I’m not entirely sure what you could possibly want to know that I have the answers to,” you said and turned to face him, “but I would love the excuse to skip a meeting.”

The sand was warm between your toes when you stepped onto the shore. A breeze stirred and kicked up the granules which bit at your skin. Lem walked beside you in silence for a while, swinging his loafers in his hand. You looked out at the water, mind flashed with reluctant images of two bodies, bare and bruised, rolling in the surf. 

“What’s it like?” your companion finally said, pulling you from your not so work appropriate thoughts.

“What’s what like?”

You turned to see Lem shaking his head and looking down at his feet. 

“Working for the Order,” he clarified and you couldn’t stop the scoff before it blew past your lips.

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that’s what you really wanted to ask me?”

Lem held up a hand in surrender and swung to face you, “I promise, I’m being perfectly honest.” When you didn’t say anything, he continued, tone much softer under the crashing waves. “Are you always this mistrustful?”

You were certain that was meant to be a rhetorical question, but it triggered a bit of uncomfortable introspection. The answer was clearly yes, that was a given, a requirement. Of course you were, everyone who played the game of politics and treaties and thinly veiled threats was constantly waiting for someone to change loyalties at the flip of a switch. That was the rules, no one ever trusted anyone else father than they could shoot them. Alliances only worked when the playing parties were mutually benefitting or consistently in the other’s line of fire. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t trusted a single soul since your academy days, and even that was questionable. You couldn’t trust your staff to do their jobs right, and the only conversations they ever had with you was nothing more than ass kissing lacking in both subtlety and class. The higher ups used you as a convenient garbage dump for all their internal screw ups. 

Any human interaction you’d had during your time in negotiations was—stripped down to its roots—simply because someone wanted something from you. 

Intentions mattered, anyone who said otherwise was only kidding themselves. 

“Work is fine, pay is good,” you kept your tone short, “why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I always wondered what it would be like to work for them.” 

“Well, I’d say it’s exactly what you’d expect,” you backed quickly away from the incoming tide, trying not to ruin any more clothing that you already had. 

“I don’t know,” Lem shrugged and followed you farther up the beach, “I figured it would be more exciting than this.” 

He gestured around vaguely at the villa and the ocean. Your balcony visible from here, you realized. Soon the two of you would walk right across the patch of sand where you and the Commander had tumbled desperately into each other. When you had— 

“It isn’t,” you quickly nipped that train of thought in the bud. “Just the same sport on a bigger playing field.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of representing your product,” Lem quipped. 

“Well thankfully I’m a diplomat, not a salesman.” 

You were standing right by the path to your rooms now, in between the parted grass you could still see the imprints of massive feet. Kylo must have carried you back last night, cold and wet and debauched. You could almost see him, muscles in his back rippling, your weight barely registering as he walked on legs like tree trunks up the small incline. The water would be dripping off his hair, coating each pretty strand and leaching away its softness. 

“Isn’t it all the same evil though,” Lem mused, pausing next to you on the beach, completely unaware of what the sand here had witnessed only a few hours ago. 

“Depends on what you define as evil.”

You wondered if Kylo could see you now, if he could hear you—really _hear_ you. Wondered if you’d ever get to know what went on inside his head. Wondered if you’d even want to. Maybe that made you evil. Or maybe you were just weak. 

“I think you’d know better than me,” Lem was staring off at the water when you turned and his neat hair parted with the breeze. 

“Why’s that?” you asked, facing back to stare into the window to your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. 

Just something. 

“Well homicide isn’t included in my negotiating arsenal for one thing,” he huffed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“I’ve never killed anyone.” 

You didn’t know why you whispered the words, didn’t know why you said them at all, but there they were drifting out to sea like a rudderless ship.

“Why not?”

“Never had too,” you said simply, “not directly at least.” 

Lem hummed thoughtfully, “But would you?”

You were still staring up at the curtain covered window. 

“Is that what you think evil is?”

“That’s what I think devotion is,” Lem replied simply. “The evil is in refusing.” 

A shadow passed across the glass, tall and menacing and real.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, after a moment of silence. 

“Don’t know what?” 

You shook your head, “I don’t know if I would kill someone, personally I mean.” 

“Fair enough,” the sound of skipping shells rang out behind you as Lem spoke, “I don’t think anyone really knows until the knife is in their hand and the throat is under it.” 

_You aren’t going to die._

You could hear Kylo’s voice and the crashing of the sea—or maybe it was something else, something else entirely that was churning around you. Something red and crackling. 

An act of devotion. 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

***

You could feel his eyes on you the second you returned. It was well into the night after a day of meetings that ran too long. But one quick scan of the room and you came up empty of brooding men in flowing black robes. Despite his lack of physical presence, you swore you could feel staring, tracking the uneven movement of your legs as you took a step further from the door. 

Kylo Ren was here somewhere, you could feel the weight of him, filling up all the extra space in the air. 

The sullen feeling of being watched followed you, making your skin flush with gooseflesh, while you stood in the middle of the room. Something moved in the shadows of the balcony. You caught just a twitch from the corner of your vision, the heel of boot pulled back into the dark. 

So that’s where he was hiding. Or maybe lurking was a more appropriate word for it. 

When your eyes had adjusted to the low light of the moon, you could just barely make him out. Kylo was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the horizon, leaning back against the rail of the balcony. You couldn’t see his face, but you could easily imagine the blank, drawn expression. The regal tilt of his jaw and the sculpted profile of his prominent nose. The slight peek of his ears between dark waves of hair. 

You paused for a moment, debating whether or not you cared enough to fill him in on what you’d gathered that morning. Lem had been more forthcoming with you for the rest of the day after your heart to heart and you’d been able to create a halfway decent profile of your target by the end of your last meeting. But there was palpable tension in the room that you couldn’t quite place, and it felt like one wrong step might find you backed up against the wall, feet dangling and throat crushed in an invisible grip. 

Turning, you sat yourself gingerly on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes. When you dropped them to the ground though, you heard the rustling of paper. Scattered on the floor was the tattered remains of a padded envelope. You frowned, picking up one of the scraps to try and make out the writing.

Your name was scrawled in messy print, torn halfway through. 

It was only when you noticed the small shreds of fabric littered among the mess that you realized what you were holding. 

_“I’ll have one of the aides send for some seaside appropriate attire, you might find you’d like to go for a swim.”_

_“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.”_

It was the package Lem had given you days ago. You’d nearly forgotten about the awful conversation with Gahl your first night on Coruscant. Some part of you was glad you’d never have to see it in one piece, the memory of his hand on your thigh still made you gag. 

You grabbed a piece of the ruined material and felt the rough outline of lace under your fingertips. 

From the balcony there came the sound of shuffling boots as Ren adjusted himself and turned away from you to look out over the sea. 

“You really shouldn’t open mail that isn’t addressed to you, sir,” you mumbled under your breath, but got no response. 

In fact, the entire room was littered with the remnants of your gift from the representative. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there sulking over it. Something in your chest swelled at the thought of him, eye twitching just before he ripped the garment to shreds. You could hear the shout that would have torn through his throat. 

Really, he fucks you once and he’s already jealous? Very unprofessional. 

The thought did wonders for your ego.

And wreaked havoc on your incredibly sore pussy, that clenched involuntarily against a new rush of warmth. 

But however much sick pride you took in exposing the Commander’s inability to control himself, you couldn’t shake the twinge of annoyance that bubbled constantly under the surface of your mind whenever Kylo Ren was involved. 

The boots, the cryptic half answers, the unclear label for whatever the hell had happened between the two of you buried in each other on the sand— that was one thing. 

But this was a slippery slope and you weren’t one for simply riding along without question. 

_“Tell me what you want._

That’s what he always said, be a shame if Ren couldn’t hold himself to the same standards. 

Without bothering to look back at him, you stood back up from the bed, proudly displayed at the center of the room. 

Slowly you lifted your arms, pulling away your top and letting it drop with a soft thump to the floor. You didn’t see him turn at the sound, but you felt it. Could sense where his eyes alighted on your bare back. They lit fiery trails wherever he paused on the blooms of broken blood vessels under your skin. You did your best not to shudder under his stare. 

You worked slowly, peeling each layer off piece by piece. Made a show of it, ran your fingers along the soft skin of your arms and gave him a lovely view of your ass when you bent down to roll off your socks. You could hear the catch in his breath so faint under the sound of the wind, and wondered if he could see the wetness glinting off your thighs in the low light. 

Wondered if he could smell it on you. 

Never once did you turn to face him, waiting until you were completely bare to walk ever so slowly into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind you. Flicking on the soft lights you started the shower with a frustratingly shaky hand. Warm water rushed through the pipes and drowned out any sound from the main room. 

You stepped past the two tile walls that blocked off the shower and let the stream of water tumble over you. It poured like a waterfall, cocooning you in the stream of it. You waited patiently to see what the Commander would do, if he’d take the bait. 

Of course he did. 

You didn’t have to wait for very long. 

He took up the entire doorway when he entered, a massive wall of muscle and sinew that towered over you in a way no one ever had before.

It was thrilling. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, voice low and layered with poorly restrained need. 

Kylo was still fully clothed, but the hard outline of his cock was clear against his thigh. You let the water run over your breasts, cupping them as though you were one of those ornate stone fountains. 

“What does it look like?”

He rolled his lips, “All I see is a whore who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.” 

He was right, you didn’t. But you wanted it anyway.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “So why don’t you show me?”

You stepped out of the water, leaving puddles behind as you crossed over to him, standing just out of arm's reach. Kylo’s fingers clenched at his sides, his neck tilted down to stare at the water running down your chest.

What happened next was not at all what you’d expected. 

You’d thought he might snap the way he often did, might yell or bend you over the vanity and give you even more marks that would smart in the morning. But he did none of that. 

Instead he lifted a single hand, his arm impossibly long and reaching you despite the distance. The second his fingertips landed on your skin, the world went black.

You felt like you were falling, your stomach doing flips as you tumbled through darkness. Everything was coming in flashes. Your feet—well no not yours, Kylo’s you realized—sticking in viscous black sludge that clung in sticky trails along the skin of your—his—legs.

A pit, gaping and horrible. 

Something burning, something blistering and crackling and raging red. It rose above you, flowing strangely like liquid sloshing and rolling like a flash flood and you staggered back. Something was rushing by your ears, light blurring in front of your eyes like a ship just about to jump into hyperspace. All of sudden, you were hurtled back into the present gasping and pitching forward into the Commander’s solid chest.

He didn’t push you away, just stood as you breathed him in and tried to plant your feet firmly on the ground. 

“What was that?”

Your voice sounded so small after the intense roaring of whatever he’d shown you. Kylo’s hand threaded into the hair at the base of your skull and yanked back until your knees buckled under the force and you hung limply from his grip.

“You would do well to listen when I say you have no idea what’s at stake here,” he hissed and you clawed at his hands. 

“Maybe if you bothered to explain it to me, I’d be more inclined to agree!” 

He shook you violently and you tried to kick your feet under you but the slick tiles offered no leverage. Kylo dropped a hand, fumbling with the button on his pants. 

“I think you’re far too busy parading yourself around like the little slut you are.”

In one smooth motion, he freed his cock from the confines of his trousers. It was just as massive as you remember, red and leaking white beads of precum. He gave it two long strokes, holding you at eye level with his dick. 

You really ought to keep your mouth shut, but despite the pain in your scalp, your cunt was clenching at the sight of rock hard and weeping for you. 

“Am I a slut or are you just a possessive bastard?”

You could pinpoint the exact moment Kylo Ren snapped. The change was subtle, a short grinding of his jaw, just a flicker of his eyes before he had your head slammed down on the vanity, ass up and knees spread for him to settle between.

His hand in your hair tilted your head up so you could watch as he guided his length to your soaked lips. He coated himself in your slick, circling your entrance and nudging your stiff clit with every stroke. 

“Watch and you tell me,” he grunted before ramming his cock into you. 

It burned and stretched until you felt him in your throat, a choked moan rattling out of your mouth. You could do nothing but watch your reflection, tears beading at the corners of your eyes when he pulled out only to thrust back in. Kylo set a savage pace, the sound of slapping skin and his groans echoed around you. 

You watched his face in the mirror, flushed bright red, one hand still on your head and the other steadying your hips as he drove into you. The drag of him was delicious, pulling pleasure out of places so deep you’d nearly forgotten they existed. 

“So desperate for your Commander’s cock, aren’t you?” he growled, draping himself over your back. 

His chest pinned your harder into the marble vanity, crushing your breasts against the cool surface while the hand on your hip reached around and pressed hard into your stomach just above your pussy.

“Feel that? Feel how this cunt was made for me?”

Kylo’s head dropped to your shoulder and his teeth sunk into the flesh, muffling the obscene moan that rumbled between his ribs when you tightened yourself around him. You whined, nipples straining against the cold stone and neglected clit begging for attention. 

“Kylo, please,” you sobbed, forgetting the game entirely, all confidence leaking away and replaced by a hunger only he could sate. 

“No,” he snarled, rearing back and yanking your head up with him. “You don’t get to beg now.”

You were absolutely ruined, skin more bruised than not and mouth hanging open in a silent cry. He met your gaze through the mirror, and you were entirely convinced it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Kylo’s lovely brown eyes were completely black with lust, his hair a crown of sweat soaked curls and a lovely blush that spread all the way to his ears. Plush lips pulled back to show his crooked teeth that splayed out like white gemstones. 

He looked every bit a dark, magnificent prince. A fallen angel or a devil or any number of cruel celestial beings—in any case the man above you could not be human.

And yet, you knew he was. 

You’d been gifted with the evidence of it, painted him with purple blossoms and seen him bare with scars and freckles and your favorite mole above his gorgeous full lips. The way his breath always smelled like toothpaste. 

In all your life you’d never been known to take orders well from any man, but staring at Kylo Ren as he pounded his massive cock into you—meeting you head on without restraint, a comeback always at the tip of his skilled tongue—you thought you might not mind it so much if it was him. 

And then his hips stilled, and he was looping your arms around his neck and pawing at your thighs before locking his arms under them and lifting you up, back against his chest. 

“Fuck, Kylo—” you yelped at the change of angle and the strength of his arms to keep you aloft.

The shower sprayed down on him, soaking his clothes as he leaned back against the tile wall and fucked you on his cock. The mirror provided a full view of your bodies joining. You watched entranced as his arms flexed, biceps bulging while your pussy swallowed his length and your tits bounced with every thrust. 

“That’s the only name I ever want to hear out of your mouth.”

He turned his face into your neck, lips and teeth sucking and nipping at the skin. It was too much, too much and not enough and you were overcome once again with the feeling of something filling in all your hollow spaces. And you knew in your bones straight to the marrow that the pit filled with churning, crackling magma was bubbling up again, accepting everything Kylo poured into you.

You clung on to the feeling and shouted through it. 

_Kylo_ , you called, breath coming in ragged gasps.

You were so close from just his cock in you, but it wasn’t enough. 

You weren’t sure if anything ever would be. 

_Kylo_ , you repeated it like a holy word, long forgotten and imbued with the power of ancient gods.

He buried his head deeper into the column of your throat, squeezing his eye shut as if that could block out your cries. 

_Kylokylokylokylokyloky_ _lo_ , you chanted in a never ending string until the dam finally broke and you felt his thoughts slipping into you like they’d always belonged there, like there had always been space for them. 

It was all too jumbled for you to parse any meaning from it. Snippets of red hot anger revealed themselves to you in a shower of manilla paper. Voices, dark and malevolent whispered of challengers and danger and design. Your body, motionless on the bed painted in ropes of his release and the comforting weight of you in his arms, real, alive, willing and wanting. 

_Take me_ , if you didn’t know better you’d think he was the one begging, _take all of me_. 

You nodded and nudged him with your nose until his lips were crashing against yours in a flurry of hot tongue and teeth. His arms left your thighs which remained impossibly in place, held up by invisible hands as he grasped at your chest, rolling a hard nipple under his thumb while the other found your clit and finally, finally rubbed frantic circles around the neglected nerves. 

Kylo’s hips never stopped their frantic pace, his cock reaching its limit inside you, and finally he was cumming, sheathed in your heat and pumping you blessedly full while he sent you tumbling over the edge with him. 

And as the waves of pleasure radiated over your skin, boiled in your bloodstream—as Kylo licked the backs of your teeth and swallowed down every cry that left you—everything faded out around the edges once again, although now for much more pleasurable reasons. 

***

When you opened your eyes again, you were laying in bed. The sheets were damp, but not uncomfortably so. 

And this time, you were not alone. Kylo’s hands, massive and all encompassing were splayed against your stomach and chest, one cupping your left breast gently in his palm. His body engulfed you from behind, bare skin hot against yours. 

So hot, you thought something inside him must be burning. 

Maybe it was. 

_Kylo?_ you wondered silently, unsure he could still hear you. 

_I’m here._

His hand on your chest flexed as he pulled you tighter. Something told you this was not the first time he’d held you like this, there was something too practiced about the placement of his body. 

_What is this?_

You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but he seemed to understand the question. 

He was silent for a moment, _I don’t know._

The lie was apparent the moment the words drifted into your head. And confirmation was echoed back to you. He knew, or at least knew some of it, just wouldn’t tell you.

That was okay, you hadn’t really expected anything else. 

_You’re safe with me_ , he whispered instead.

And that was not entirely true either, in fact you would not be here if not for him. But all of this had a certain inevitability about it that you couldn’t place. A feeling that this would have happened regardless, or a version of it with the same outcome.

You closed your eyes against the thought and nodded, letting yourself be held like you had so often dreamed of on lonely nights in your small quarters

You were safe then, safe but empty.

And really, that was so much worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. I said this on my tumblr, but I'll say it here as well, my classes are starting up again in a week so I will have less time to dedicate to my fics. I will in no way stop writing, it will just be a bit slower. This one in particular may see shorter updates or it just might take me a lot longer than usual to get them out. I still want to work on some one shots and headcanons and such. If you'd like to keep up with my other content, come talk to me @star-killer-md. You're all beautiful people and I hope you're staying safe and happy <333


	7. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which answers are found.

The room smelled too sweet, the kind that lodged under your tongue and ached in your jaw. It made you long for the silence of your seaside room, made you strangely thankful that Kylo Ren often never filled it. But only for a minute. Because thinking of him reminded you of how you’d woken to an empty bed and cold, damp sheets and that you were certainly not thankful for. 

Meanwhile, Lem Alba seemed intrinsically compelled to do exactly the opposite. 

In fact, once he’d guessed you wouldn’t chew his head off every time he opened his mouth, it never closed again. You weren’t entirely sure if this annoyed or pleased you. But when Lem came to your door and invited you to brunch before all campaign staff were carted off back to the Federal District, you agreed. 

If only to avoid being left alone with your thoughts. 

“Not to grandstand,” Lem babbled between sips of his drink, “but I often feel some of my skills are wasted working just as a personal aide.” 

You glanced up from your plate and nodded, “I think most people in this profession tend to believe that. We’re all a bit insatiable.” 

He chuckled, soft voice melding perfectly with the chatter and bustle of the surrounding tables. You couldn’t help but think that Lem fit in well here, as much as he tried to deny it. His edges blended seamlessly with the velvet and silk background. It reminded you of when he’d plucked you right out of the crowd your first night here. 

_“You First Order people have a way about you. Something in the way you stand a bit too straight.”_

Something in the way you’re always waiting for the ball to drop. 

“Yes well, I’m not gunning for a power grab,” Lem sighed and rolled his eyes. 

He looked very much like a scorned child and you felt a twinge of remorse, “No, I didn’t think you were.” 

“It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his neat hair and stared at you over the rim of his glass, “I just get so bored of it all sometimes.”

“Mm, me too,” you said around a bite of some extravagant concoction that dripped embarrassingly down your chin. 

You thought of blood and saltwater rolling across your skin and quickly wiped it away with a napkin. 

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that would be an issue for someone in your position.”

You had to try very hard not to scoff out loud, settling for a disbelieving raise of your eyebrows. Piles of paperwork taller than the Commander filled your head, glowering officers and incessant incident reports—your life nothing more than a series of other people's mistakes that somehow became your fault. Grey walls and meetings that never ended. 

Come to think of it, you’d been bored and tired and frustrated your whole life it seemed. Although, not so much anymore. Still just as exhausted and angry, but less like a pacing animal in a cage. The thought sat uncomfortably in your stomach as you wondered when exactly that had changed. 

Of course you already knew the answer. 

You always were attracted to things that kept you on your toes. 

“Should we discuss this speech I’m supposed to be giving?” you asked. 

If Lem noticed your less than subtle change in topic, he didn’t show it for which you were grateful. 

“Certainly,” he gestured for you to continue. 

“Well, I’ve had it outlined for quite awhile since the powers that be were oh-so specific about the subject matter,” you began, watching Lem grimace sympathetically. 

“Yes, I believe I’m meant to collect a draft from you by the end of the week.” 

The joints in your shoulders popped when you slumped forward, hanging your head against the weight of far too stringent deadlines.

“I’m well aware,” you sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t be so neglectful of the timeline, I’m just having a hard time...focusing.” 

The barely concealed mark on the curve of your neck throbbed as you recalled the massive, decadently handsome distraction that consistently occupied your workspace. Really, how were you expected to get any quality content produced with that dark, looming shadow always poisoning your mind with questions and completely inappropriate fantasy. 

Currently, your entire body seemed to constrict at the notion that it was no longer strictly a fantasy. Your muscles corded taught, pulling like a ruched seam and tugging painfully at the sinew. It felt almost as if you were a marionette with invisible strings controlled by equally invisible hands that tingled as they jerked you about. You got the distinct sensation that someone was watching you, but resisted the urge to turn and look. 

Lem—completely oblivious to your inner turmoil—perked up and offered you a blindingly white grin full of ramrod straight teeth. 

“I have an office I’m more than willing to loan out if you’d like to make use of it,” he said. 

You considered the idea, chewing on your lip. Maybe getting lost in speech writing would be good, you thought. Something easy, something formulaic would do wonders for taking your mind off, well, everything. 

“As long as you’re offering,” you flashed him a strained smile and went back to shuffling things around your plate. 

Lem continued to spew an endless stream of comfortingly meaningless ramblings and you bathed in the sound of it, looking up occasionally to offer a hum of acknowledgement. You didn’t really care what he was saying—whether it was opinions for opening lines or who you should thank first or what color to wear that he thought would bring out your eyes—but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a friendly conversation with...anyone. 

So you let him talk, and nodded every once in a while and basked in the normalcy, the mundaneness of the scene. Until, of course, the peace was shattered when your server returned with a new cocktail for Lem, who promptly spilled it all over the table. 

You watched it unfold like the audience of a holodrama: the waiter, tall with an abundance of black curls and long fingers extending the glass, their hands touching for just an instant, the scarlet blush that tinted Lem’s ears when he glanced at the man’s face and stared transfixed even as the drink spilled off the table and onto his slacks. 

It felt very suddenly as if you were seeing something you shouldn’t be. 

But the moment ended quickly and quietly, fizzling out with a whimper as the waiter with all his curly hair frantically mopped up the mess. His voice was low and pleasant when he apologized and rushed off to get another drink mixed. 

For once, you had the urge to participate in the conversation. 

“Who’s that?” you asked, flicking your eyes up briefly and then back down to the wet mark on the table cloth. 

Lem shrugged and fiddled with the stain on his pants, “Nobody.” 

And for once, it seemed, he had nothing else to say on the matter. 

It was truly a challenge to keep the amused smile from splitting your cheeks as Lem so clearly tried and failed not to make a complete fool of himself every time said server returned to clear plates. And when a beautifully decorated fruit tart found its way to your table—decidedly marked as ‘on the house’—you were graced with an extraordinarily toothy, childish smile from your dining companion. 

Your chest ached with it, the display of reality. 

On your first night here, you’d thought Lem looked too much like all the other First Order officers you were forced to work with. Thought his hair was too perfect, his suit too pressed, words too cherry picked. 

But here you were again, getting drawn in by these stupid, simple instances of existence in relation to others. You craved the feeling of fading into the background as Lem stuttered whenever he tried to thank the boy with his curls and warm smile. 

It was strange too, to see that people truly did flush and brush hands and chew their lips and smile so freely. For whatever reason, you’d been under the distinct impression that was an exclusively fictional pursuit, saved for holofilms or storybooks. 

Did those things exist in you? Were there times when you’d fluttered the way Lem did now, cautiously stealing bites of his tart, trying to preserve the delicate design for as long as possible? Or had they atrophied and fallen to dust from disuse, nothing more than a vestigial organ, unnecessary and forgotten—ready to pump your body full of toxins at a moment's notice should it burst. 

And that only raised more questions. How incomplete had you been this whole time? How long had you been ignorant of your deficiency? 

And did it matter?

But that was not something you could ever answer. So, you sat back and watched and listened and breathed it in. 

Appreciated from afar this show of innocence _weakness_.

You jolted in your seat, shoulders bunching together as if a hand had grabbed you from behind. The double voice rang out in your head, echoing up like it was shouted from the bottom of some pit inside you. You knew that voice though—would know it anywhere by now. 

It was him, of course it was. 

You could feel Kylo Ren like a shroud, a dampening of the outside world. When you listened closely, you swore you could hear the sound of crashing waves, the crunch of sand under boot heels. The smell of salt and skin and bloody water filled your nose. Your chest was burning, a prison for some roiling, angry creature that flung itself against the steel bars of your ribs.

His ribs.

His heartbeat, a pounding and ruthless tattoo.

His feet already moving in time to the beat, carrying him farther and farther— 

_Is it?_ you shouted back.

The words tore at your throat even as you sat in silence at the table. But no response came, instead the chatter of the dining room returned and Lem tilted his head in concern, standing and gathering you up by the arms. 

He pulled you down the poshly ornamented halls, chattering still but shooting glances down more often with his brows furrowed. You let him lead you, thin arm looped around yours, back towards your quarters to ‘help you pack,’ he said. And you didn’t bother discouraging him. 

You already knew the room would empty. 

***

The meeting had been dragging on for quite nearly an hour already. You were seated at the far end of a comically long table staring off into oblivion, eyes having glazed over nearly ten minutes in when one of the relations staff started going on about color coordinating suits. 

Although, you were not completely tuned out. It was very hard to be when just a few seats away sat the Representative himself with his grotesque excuse for an advisor positioned at his right hand. Fortunately he hadn’t spared you a glance, but it was a challenge not to keep one eye on him at all times—to not consistently feel your calves twitch, ready to bolt through the nearest exit. 

You understood now what it must be like for all those prisoners sitting in the _Finalizer’s_ belly—backed into the final corner, waiting for Kylo Ren to swoop in like a shadow and leave them flayed open to be tossed out with the rest of those who have outgrown their usefulness. 

You’ve been trying not to think too specifically about... _him_ since you’d returned to the Federal District, your room here just as empty as the one by the sea. His shirt, the one you’d stolen was still packed neatly into your bags. You thought about throwing it away, or tossing it in the corner for him to find. But then you remembered the bits of torn up packaging and lace and that you would not sink to that level. Physical reminders aside, your head had been blessedly—or maybe concerningly—devoid of any voices that were not your own since your, well, ‘fight’ you supposed was the word for it at brunch. 

Then again, all you ever did with _him_ was fight, but this felt different. 

There were plenty of reasons for the Commander to be angry with you, in fact, you didn’t think there could ever be a shortage. However, this seemed just a little too...petulant for your liking. 

You recalled some of Hux’s old rants. Generally, you’d just let him rave like you were just another piece of furniture in his office, stewing in the same hot, bubbling pot of indignation. You could hear him now:

_“He’s a child, a sulking, immature youngling completely incapable of a single rational thought.”_

And you finally understood what he meant. 

If only you were allowed to use the silent treatment, but that seemed to be a privilege only for those higher up in the food chain. 

Besides, you were far too classy for such elementary tactics. 

You spat the last words and hoped to the stars that wherever the hell Ren had run off to, he heard them. Which one of you was the weak one now?

It was Lem who pulled you from the dark, brooding hole you’d dug yourself as he caught your eye from across the table. The speakers were switching, a half-hearted applause ringing out in the cavernous room and he flashed you a quick roll of his eyes. You bit back a smile at the way he jumped when Gahl turned to rattle off some inane order and Lem scrambled to take a note down. 

Watching it reminded you of how he’d nearly leaped out of his suit when the waiter boy with curly hair brought by your plates. Jane was his name. You’d discovered it while Lem was helping you pack, happily filling the silence with how he was much too smart to be working as a server.

And as you thought, your traitorous mind led you inevitably back to the looming, black specter that haunted your every waking minute. You would be kidding yourself if you thought you could ever have given the Commander the cold shoulder when truly he was all you ever thought about. Even before, even if it was just to remember how much you despised him. 

Past tense now, you noted worriedly. What a terrifying concept. 

But your brain was moving quickly past that, tucking it away in some far, deep corner to only be touched on long nights when you were up far past the shift in day cycles. 

Now it was replaying your brunch, closing up on a still of _Jane’s hand on the glass about to tumble, on the lip biting, starry eyed and heart pounding look in his eyes. And then he was changing, the skin of his hand growing lighter, milky and soft with scattered freckles._

_Then it was your hand reaching out. Your hand slipping on the glass and Kylo Ren—sweet smile on his face—staring down at you blushing like a ripe fruit in summer._

_His lovely crooked teeth flashed behind lips like pillows filled with the softest featherdown._

_The tips of his fingers brushed your hand, light and nervous in that not-quite-accidental way that should have made your heart leap into hyper drive. Kylo’s eye flicked down at the floor, downcast coyly and glancing every few seconds to catch you staring at the pink in his cheeks._

_You watched the scene as if through water, some stark, salty barrier that coated him in a film of non-reality. You waited for the star shine look of his eyes to pull you in, waited to feel your hands shake and your pulse race and any number of other inane, fluttery things that you had seen Lem stumble through._

_But the sight of it, the look on this man's face—because it was most certainly not Kylo Ren looking at you with honey eyes, sparkling shy dips of nectar—it was..._

_It was not at all what you’d thought._

_It was revolting._

_It was an antithesis come to life._

_It made your skin crawl with the unnatural feeling of it all._

_Kylo Ren’s face was not built to look at you this way, did not contain sickeningly gentle smiles, his hands knew no soft brushes of fingertips._

_No, they wielded saber blades and crushed bone and spilled blood._

_They tangled in your hair and molded mottled fingerprints into your skin_

_His lips were carved from marble that could not comprehend such an innocent up turning, unless it was to mock his opponent._

_They sucked permanent brands of ownership into your skin, and made them throb when you thought of him._

_And that was all you would ever want him to do._

_As much as he roused the caged and angry beast that resided in your bones, as much as he lied and withheld and left you to wake alone—_

_You couldn’t bear this bastardized, cheap imitation that stared at you sweetly._

_That was not your Commander._

_That was not your Kylo Ren._

_And you would not have him any other way._

_That thought sat heavy with you and called to life something in the depths of your being. A fire, red and electric sparked to life. You recalled the vision he’d shown you. Recalled his words echoing:_

“All I see is a whore who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.” 

_You felt yourself slip into the memory of his hands burying themselves in your flesh. The image of yourself—ruined, marked, and so clearly his—was crashing to the surface of your thoughts like whitecapped waves on a stormy sea. The ache in your neck returned, as though his hands were wrenching your head back to make you watch as he split you in half with his cock. You saw it in incredible detail, the veins of his length sinking into you to the hilt in one long roll of his hips. It stung and made your nerves sing with the pain of taking him._

_It was delicious._

_It fed you the pit inside you like meat thrown to a starving beast._

_This was how he was meant to be taken: painful in his beauty, lovely in his destruction._

_His skin was so warm when he pressed your back to his chest and growled in your ear:_

“So desperate for your Commander’s cock, aren’t you?” 

_And yes, of course you were, of course you always were because really had you ever felt complete or whole without him filling you to the brim? But it wasn’t just his cock you needed buried in you. No, you craved him in a way that transcended your physical being._

_Separate. That’s what he told you, that there was something more to you than just your body that could exist outside of yourself, could slip into his head and find him even when you were dreaming._

_And you were desperate for the feeling of his thoughts. For his mind, for whatever it was that let you hear him whispering all the things he could never say aloud._

_His voice in your head was the only thing that soothed the churning in your guts, it was like salve on a burn, cooling like the mint of his breath. The steady beat of his blood the only thing that truly set you at ease._

_Yes, that was your Kylo Ren._

_Possessive and withholding, saying everything in brief glances and the twitch of of jaw. Complex and often painful and perfect._

_You wanted him that way._

_And you needed to hear him._

_You couldn’t stand the silence any longer._

_Kylo?_

_The single word echoed across whatever void your mind was inhabiting, crosses bounds to seek out something on the other end._

_You waited and wanted and—_

_And then you were not so alone in your head anymore._

But the meeting room was coming back into focus and everyone was staring directly at you. The large holoprojector in the table’s center showed the first, familiar graphics of your portion of the presentation. From across the table, Lem was staring at you, brows furrowed and questioning. 

“Right,” you said, making your way to the front of the room.

You felt as though you were back in the academy, bland and boring faces all staring up at your false smile. You tried not to focus on them too hard. “As the delegate from the First Order, I’ll naturally be making the announcement of endorsement. This will be submitted to Mr. Alba for review by the end of the week along with the Order’s formal statement of apology.” 

You nodded and the projection moved on, showing the next set of animations, “Now, as I said, these will be submitted at the end of this week, so if there’s any—”

There was a hand sliding up your thigh. It was distinct and massive and coated in leather, the feeling of it so incredibly acute under your clothing you almost choked in shock. But when you slapped a hand down, there was nothing but empty air. 

The crowd for the most part seemed not to have noticed your pause, too caught up in whispered conversations to the side or staring blankly at the tabletop, so you cleared your throat, “If there’s anything you’d like to be included that should be given to me by tomorrow evening at the latest.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the pulse of it clear all the way to your fingertips. Taking a shaky breath you continued to go over the list of other asinine requests, falling easily into a familiar rhythm. Presentations like this were half your job back on the _Finalizer._ It was home turf, and you were able to flick on autopilot long enough too— 

_What was that?_ you asked incredulously into the void of your mind

Silence echoed, and you glanced briefly around the room, though thankfully you’d looked down at your notes when the hand returned. This time much, much higher. The unmistakable feeling of leather catching on the edge of your panties made your jaw drop. 

_You called._

Kylo’s voice reverberated through your skull, his tone was blank but you could feel the strange mixture of amusement and annoyance that was not yours. It was irritating on a level you’d thought impossible. 

_Well I’m a bit busy if you hadn’t noticed,_ you snapped, grinding your teeth when his disembodied scoff graced your ears. 

You’d think it might be one of the most alluring things you’d ever heard if the stares of so many faceless campaign staffers weren’t pinning you down at the same time. 

_Hmm,_ he hummed, unconcerned or unbothered by whatever was going on outside of the little world that consisted of just the two of you. 

His hand—because that’s what it had to be, his hand, somehow—curled under the hem of your panties, ripping the elastic to the side where it dug painfully into your skin. 

_Stop_ , you hissed it, spat the word at him and tried to will away the fingers that pulled the meat of your thighs apart. 

But they only spread your legs further, a rush of cold air hitting your cunt and tensing your stomach as his fingers drew up up up— 

_You’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t you?_

And, of course, since you’ve never been all that good about following orders, the second he plunged two, impossibly thick fingers deep into your pussy, your voice caught in your throat. The garbled half cough half moan half wounded animal cry made every head in the room turn to face you.

Even Atreus, whose dead, white blue eyes locked in on your face and never blinked.

You froze, struggling to recall your place as Kylo worked his unseen fingers father into you, coaxing a wave of slick heat to drip from your core. Your hands bunched into fists, nails digging crescent moon holes into the skin of your palm in an effort not to gasp when he hit that lovely spot inside and made your knees threaten to give out. 

_Don’t stop, now. Unless you’d like them to know what a little whore you are,_ Kylo growled from somewhere deep inside you. 

You caught your breath, plastering a smile on your face and taking a sip from the glass of water being offered to you. 

“My apologies, where was I?”

Shuffling through your notes, you picked up where you’d left off with proper terms to use when addressing members of the Order. You tried not to move, focusing squarely on the projection and schooling your expression—at least you hoped you were. Atreus’ stare never left you now. Like he could smell the lie on your face. Or the way your pussy gushed with ever renewed thrusting of Kylo’s leather fingers, the ridges creating a sinful drag against your walls. 

_Well if I’m a whore then what are you?_

From whatever corner of your mind he was lurking in, Kylo chuckled softly. 

_Much worse,_ he mused. 

You bit back a scream when his thumb found your clit, rubbing swift circles with the smooth material. 

But in your head, your voice rang free, and you let out the string of curses you’d been holding back, voice cracking into a whine when he added a third finger. And just as he spread you open, scissored your entrance and glided against your walls, something else opened too, gaped wide and you spilled into it. 

You could see him, but it was a different him, from a different time, walking the halls of the _Finalizer_. His boots ran out against the durasteel until they came to an abrupt halt and silence filled the corridor. There was a slight tremor in his hand, a minuscule shaking as he gripped his thigh and fell back against the wall, breath coming heavy through his mask. 

It was practiced, the movement of his hand that fumbled with the layers of his robes until his cock sprang free, hard and leaking and with a lovely red flush to the head. Your mouth watered at the sight of his hand stroking long and fast along the shaft, thumb teasing his tip and collecting the little beads of precum that glistened there. 

_This is what you do to me,_ he said. _I hear all of it. Every thought you have. I hear how badly you want my cock pounding into you and my hand on your throat and—_

He groaned in your head, the same way you knew he must have in whatever memory you were viewing. Distantly, you could just barely feel the movement of his hand as he jerked himself, hips bucking up into his fist. 

You were not faring much better. The words kept tumbling out of your mouth, sometimes trailing off on a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. Your head spun with this new confirmation. He’d heard all of it. Every frustrated thought, every time you’d goaded him in meetings and hallways and when you’d lie awake— or not so awake—and think about how much you maybe, probably, almost certainly didn't hate him. Not that you hadn’t known, that he could hear you. Not that you hadn’t suspected that it had always been him, not some imaginary replication. That was very clear, but now. Now you had the truth. Now you knew for certain. 

Kylo Ren had always been more than just a dream. 

For so long he had watched you crumbling from afar and said nothing.

And who knew how long he intended to keep you in the dark. 

If there wasn’t a target on your back right now, would you have ever found out?

_Kylo,_ you gasped the words in your head as his thumb sped up in its rhythm on your clit and his fingers stroked your walls, _what is this?_

You needed to know. You deserved to know. 

And you could feel the words. They were there, right on the tip of his lovely pink tongue, about to find their way past the crooked edges of his teeth, lips loose in the pleasure of you. But the burst of white that clouded your vision and finally made your knees buckle drowned out any truth he may have spared you. Your combined releases flowed thick like heavy metal through your veins as you felt the pulse of him slowly fading from your mind, slipping from your grasp. 

Your hand shot out to grab the table edge, holding yourself upright as everything in your mind went blessedly, horribly quiet and the room grew much louder. Time was unclear to you. The projections showed you’d managed to get through over half of your presentation, but you called none of it. 

Lem was standing up now, walking briskly over to you with a hand on your back and another under your elbow. The fingers in your cunt had disappeared, leaving you feeling empty and cold as your slick stuck to the inside of your thighs. 

“Ah, I believe our financing presentation is up next,” Lem called out, motioning quickly for the team to take over and leading you back to your seat. 

When you were safely sat back in the chair, you felt his stiffly gelled hair brush your cheek. It smelled overpoweringly of apricots and vanilla. Too sweet. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

The concern in his voice was evident, but you were lost in the past few minutes and too frustrated by the silence in your head to appreciate it. 

“Fine,” you mumbled back and turned your head back to the blank table. 

You didn’t look at him as he rushed back to his place by Gahl, who’s gaze never shifted your way. Unlike his advisor. Even now the slip of a man in his dark suit and red tie stared at you down his nose like it was the barrel of his blaster. 

Like he was taking aim. 

You swallowed and tried to go back to that space where time did not exist and your head was not so empty, but it didn’t not come. 

Instead, you sat and listened and hoped you wouldn’t leave a damp spot on the cushions when you left. 

***

There were a lot of rules in negotiations. 

The First Order made sure its best and brightest had them all carved onto the backs of their hands before they ever set foot in the situation room. When you closed your eyes, you could see the words flashing in your mind. You knew them better than you knew yourself. But maybe that wasn’t really saying much. You’d been discovering quite a lot of personal details recently you weren’t previously aware of. 

Though, that was besides the point now. 

Now all you could think of was that the number one rule to a successful negotiation, was to always know more than your opponent. 

Knowledge was your strength, knowledge was your red crackling lightsaber, knowledge was your fist closed, throat crushing Force. 

That was how you came out on top, by constantly keeping the upper hand—by always having an ace in your metaphorical back pocket. 

But right now, you were losing.

And the frustration of it was going to consume you. 

Because you didn't know what or how or why Kylo Ren was in your head. In fact, you weren’t even sure if it was your head he was in. It felt much deeper than that now. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep him out. Whatever you’d done, whatever you’d let in that night on the sand with the sea standing witness, you would never be able to take it back. 

Kylo Ren was a liar. That you knew, because you were a liar too. 

Knowledge was your power, but lies were your currency. They were what you traded at the table, they were what slipped the easiest from your tongue and made sure you walked away from a deal with more than you’d come in with. 

And Kylo Ren was not in the business of negotiations, so there was nothing you could ever offer that would pry his jaw open and spill all his secrets. Nothing that could persuade him to tell you what exactly had taken root in your chest when you’d accepted him, took him inside and wanted to keep him there. 

But you needed to know. 

The desire to understand consumed you and every thought in your head. The same head that found itself clunking against a new desk in a new office with the same unending dissatisfaction. 

Lem had left you a few hours ago, setting you up in his workspace with a glass of water and a concerned smile. You knew you were being unnecessarily rude to him, and had you been less shaken, you might have felt some guilt over it. 

Now you were staring up at your datapad, document resolutely blank, and unable to think of anything other than the way Kylo’s skin reflected the light off the ocean or how his hair curled into little ringlets when it was soaked through and dripping onto your face and— 

You groaned, knocking your forehead into the desktop and squeezing your eyes shut against the barrage of images and the strange, uncomfortable ache they incited. You rested your head on your arms and tried to block out the light of the office, let yourself drift and tried to recall...well what you weren’t sure. 

The Force always seemed so far away, so fantastical that you weren’t ever truly convinced it was real. Not until you’d seen it first hand, watched the bodies of countless ‘troopers dragged from the hallways with not a mark on them. It simply wasn’t something anyone talked about, not at the Academy, and certainly not when you started working under Hux. 

It was...energy, you knew that much. And it was in everything, everyone you supposed, though stronger some than others. You knew it could be used for more than just making objects float around, although for what other purposes you weren’t entirely certain. It certainly wasn’t something you’d ever been able to use. 

But you thought it must have a hand in this, whatever it was that let you see, hear, taste, feel the Commander even when he was so far from you. Somewhere deep in the dusty corners of your mind, you knew that this would always be the case from now on. That even with light years in between, he’d only ever be a hair's breadth away—a whisper of his name or a beat of your heart. 

It was hard to swallow that notion. Hard to comprehend that you would never be alone in your skin. Never would you feel so lacking. What a cruelty, you thought, that it had taken so long. That you had been born into this world incomplete. Your Commander would call that a weakness, but really wasn’t he just as unfinished as you. There was still some gap in him waiting to be filled.

So, then, why couldn’t you find him like he could find you?

You didn’t have the gifts he did, you couldn’t make doors fly from their hinges or break bone with just a twitch of your fingers. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it always would be. 

Voices from the hall broke you from your stupor. Two of them, the first old and grating, the second slick like oil that left a bad taste in your mouth—the representative and his advisor. You’d recognize them anywhere now. 

“...well I’d say that a drink is in order,” Gahl was saying, trailing off as they walked further from Lem’s office. 

“Sir, we shouldn’t be leaving—”

Atreus spoke that time, the sound of it trickling like cold water down your spine. Thankfully, the representative spoke over him. 

“Lem is here, he’ll take care of things.” 

A hand slapped the closed door currently keeping you hidden as they passed. You stayed still at the desk until the footsteps had completely petered out, listening to the expensive click of their hard soles die away into silence. Until now it had not occurred to you how close they were. How close the blade was to striking. You let out a breath and looked around. Everything seemed a bit more foggy than usual. Then, from across the room, you heard it—a soft creaking. And when you looked up, the door to Lem’s office was slowly falling open on its hinges. 

Like it was pulled by some invisible hand. 

And you felt the same tugging, the same formless compulsion, the same ghosting over your flesh. 

Across the hall, another door was drifting open by degrees, revealing a meticulously kept office with a shiny gold name plate:

_Atreus._

Slowly, you let yourself be pulled—a puppet on strings—walking noiselessly across the corridor. In the doorway you paused, staring at the intricate black lettering. You wanted answers, and something told you this is where you’d find them. 

Into the belly of the beast. 

You took a careful step over the threshold, the air honey-thick and clinging to your skin. The office was spotless, not a paper out of place as you circled around the massive desk and ran your hands up the array of drawers. Each one was furnished with an ornate golden handle that glimmered in light from the hall. 

To your right, a drawer slid open just an inch or two. You watched, eyes wide, as it shuttered of its own accord out of place. And your hand similarly seemed to have a mind of its own, reaching out to grasp the handle and reveal it’s contents. 

Inside, nestled atop of a stack of folders was a small, black notebook. At first glance, it seemed innocuous. Not many people used pen and paper these days. But then the space around it started to shimmer, locking your gaze until the world outside it turned hazy. Shaking, your hand reached out fingertips brushing the leather bound cover. You bit your lip, teeth worrying the flesh as you sat on the floor and pulled the book into your lap. The ragged edges of each page caught on your nails when you flipped them open. 

Written in small, messy scrawl, was page upon page of notes. Words ran off the lines, and continued through the margins, most too minuscule or smudged to be legible. Multiple times, the Commander’s name was scratched in between sentences, angry obsessive markings that made your eyes sting. But you kept skimming, letting your hand be guided along. 

Until suddenly the pages stopped turning. 

And you stared down in horror. 

In the awful, disgusting script, was your name circled, underlined and bolded at the top of the paper. Thin, curving, inked arrows drew lines across the other mismatched text and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the grating, garbled sound that threatened to escape your chest. 

There, the words stood out clear as day among the mess of lines. 

**_Bond._ **

Your brain hadn’t even begun to register the implications of this, but you knew. 

This was the answer you’d been searching for. 

And you had no time to process it, because footsteps from the hall were approaching, quick and hard soled. Your eyes went wide and you scrambled to close the drawer and shove the book into your jacket pocket. Knees tearing on the carpet, you tucked yourself into the space under the desk and held your breath. 

Silence rang out in the tiny room. 

From outside, you heard the footsteps grow louder, closer, and finally come to a halt right in the doorway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for reader and I apologize for the very long hiatus. I'm in school so midterms kinda murdered my creative spirit for awhile, but here it is! I hope you enjoyed and don't forget to check out my tumblr @star-killer-md for more writing and updates and such. I love all of you <33333


	8. Just saying this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you discover sometimes knowing is worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks I have returned after a long break. I was hit with a wave of no motivation and life shit but thank you to everyone who has read all my other shit and left me such nice feedback. I am patently horrible at responding to comments but I see them all and love them so much. There is not much Kylo in this chapter, so apologies in advance but I promise there will be plenty of him to come.

Your breathing stopped along with the footsteps at the door. One hand remained pressed firmly against your mouth while you shrunk as far under the desk as possible. There was only horrid stillness for the next few moments. You got the distinct impression that whoever stood at the entryway was tasting the very air, sniffing like a predator for blood spilled into the sea. And a chill ran through you the second he caught your scent. A voice like ice and stone rang out as the hunt began in earnest. 

“You know, it’s impolite to enter a room without permission,” Atreus mused from behind you. 

The sound of it coupled with the knowledge that he was only mere footsteps away made your limbs shake. Like a wild creature caught in a snare, you were flooded with instinctual fear at the sound of the door clicking shut. 

“Though I will admit, I was hoping you would pay me a visit.” 

He was pacing now, footsteps softened by the carpet but still perceptible. To your right the embellished wardrobe doors were flung open accompanied by a dissatisfied grunt. You frantically searched the immediate area for paths of escape—or potential weapons if it came to that—but there was nothing. Your back was to the door and Atreus stood directly between you and the only way out. 

As the likelihood that you would walk out of this office dwindled, you cursed yourself and your hubris for ever taking this job in the first place. 

There must have been a saying about this type of thing somewhere, but you couldn’t seem to recall any at the moment. 

“You ought to show yourself,” he continued, every word laced with mockery and disgust. 

He was getting closer with each step. There were only so many places to hide and judging by the fading noises of clutter being moved, all but one had been exhausted. He was going to find you and you were going to die. 

At least you would be right about one thing. 

Kylo Ren really was a liar. 

“I never took you for a coward,” fingers drummed on the desk above you and it creaked as Atreus leaned his weight over the top, like a ship's hull as it kicked into hyperdrive. 

He was so close now you could smell him, all artificial cologne and shoe polish. If you hadn’t been trying so hard to hold your breath before you certainly were now. His own came in calm, measured puffs and you closed your eyes tightly as if that could hide you any further. While your last moments alive and breathing wasted away, you recalled all the times the Commander had called you arrogant or prideful or any other combination of synonyms that all meant the same damn thing: foolish. 

Before you might have called it confidence. Might have thought he and all your other superiors were simply threatened by their inability to tear you down. Now you just kicked yourself for being cocky enough to leave your back turned. 

“Seems I was mistaken, Ren.” 

_What?_

You recoiled at the name and very nearly said the word aloud as your eyes flew open in shock. But the legs which came into view—unnervingly long and thin— and situated directly in front of the desk turned anything you might say to dust on your tongue. 

Why was it, even at the moment of your imminent demise, that the Commander was inevitably mentioned? 

Could you really not be executed for political gain in peace?

“I know you’re here. I can feel it,” he began but was interrupted by two more approaching footsteps and a blessedly familiar voice. 

“No, I’m sorry sir, I’ve been away sampling catering options,” Lem’s soft, clear tone was more relieving that you’d care to admit. 

You swore if you lived through the next five minutes, you’d apologize for every rude thing you’d ever said to him. 

Well, all the rude things you’d been _wrong_ about. 

“You were in your office just before I left,” Gahl grumbled and stopped just outside the door, wrapping twice. “Atreus, are you quite finished in there? I’d rather not be late to dinner just because you’ve stained your tie.” 

The creak of hinges nearly had you slamming your head into the desk in shock. 

“No sir, I lent the space to our guest from the First Order,” Lem prattled nervously and you heard Atreus growl as he shifted in place. 

“You shouldn’t be letting just anyone wander around here, Alba,” the advisor huffed before adding under his breath, “You never know what they might get into.” 

“Really, you’re the one that suggested we invite—” Lem was drowned out by another soft knock and the creaking of a door across the hall. 

You didn’t bother tuning into what Gahl had been mumbling about as Atreus’s knees slowly bent and you were once again filled with the rush of dread at the prospect of being discovered. At best you’d be labeled as a conspirator and sent back to the Finalizer for Hux to have you killed himself for destroying Order relations to Coruscant. At worst, you were destined to die on the goddamn floor at the feet of a greasy, poor excuse for an advisor. 

But in fact, neither of those options played out. 

Instead, you found the world going black for just a split second—no more than a blink—and when you woke it was to a hand gently rocking your shoulder. 

You bolted upright, startled to find yourself no longer cramped on the floor, but seated in Lem’s office. There was a small puddle of drool on the desk and Lem himself staring down at you, brows knit in concern. 

“You alright?” he asked quietly. 

But you didn’t respond right away, just looked wide-eyed out the door as Atreus rose from the floor and met your gaze with his own indecipherable expression. 

From beside you, Lem squeezed your shoulder again and you turned to face him. 

“Yes, sorry,” you muttered, shrugging away from him and rolling your neck. Every joint and muscle in you felt stiff. “I must have dozed off a bit.” 

“I can see that,” he chuckled but his face never lost it’s questioning look. 

“Right, well,” you continued, hastily gathering your things. The air felt thick and stuck in your throat. You wanted to get out—needed to get out—immediately. “Thank you for the office, I’ll be on my way and send the drafts to you later this evening.” 

Passing by Gahl at the doorway, you gave him a friendly nod and a quiet, “Representative, I hope you have a lovely evening.” 

You were nearly out of the wing entirely when that god awful voice sunk it’s claws into your leg again. 

“Oh, but you must join us for dinner,” Atreus hummed. 

He had sauntered back out to stand behind the Representative and was pinning you down with a horrifically sweet smile. It was so wrong on his face you shuddered at the sight. Gahl, annoyingly, nodded along as he looked you up and down. 

“A good suggestion,” he said heartily. The redness of his cheeks and the slight sway in his step suggested he’d had more than just one drink before returning. “We haven’t had the chance to speak much since you came.” 

Shit. That bastard knew you couldn’t refuse a personal invitation lest you run the risk of seeming rude or suspicious when you were here to supposedly mend ties. Gahl might have been drunk enough to forget the impasse but Atreus was not as dimwitted. 

“Well, I suppose I can’t refuse such a kind invitation,” you gritted out as politely as possible. 

Gahl clapped once, loudly and turned back, calling to Lem, “Wonderful! Lem my boy, you’ll meet our friend in the lobby, yes?”

“Of course,” he said, blonde head popping out of the doorway and offering you a sympathetic smile. “You can go drop your things off and change if you’d like, I’ll wait for you.” 

You sighed and flashed a hopefully convincing grin at the three men, “Thank you, I shall see you momentarily.” 

With that you tried your best not to turn and bolt, but waited at least until you got three corridors down before collapsing to the floor in a pile of stuttering breaths and shaking hands. You tucked your head between your knees and tried to inhale deeply. The insides of your head pounded with the slick, viscous sound of Atreus’s words. The only thing that pulled you to your feet again was the insistent need to get as far away from it as possible. 

The hallways blended together as your feet carried you father and father from the offices, the Representative, and your almost murderer. You had hoped your room would offer some reprieve from the panic, that there may be someone waiting for you inside to spin comforting lies of safety. 

There was not. 

The room contained nothing but freshly made sheets and a white blotch on the wall where a hole had been patched. 

Nothing at all to indicate the Commander had set foot there since your return. 

You considered calling for him briefly. It had worked before, and the shame of crawling behind his hulking form to hide away was incredibly alluring. But instead you found yourself discarding your jacket and top in favorite of something slightly more upscale. The clothes landed in a pile by the bed where you sat for a moment. 

With the door and several floors of high rise architecture between you and that slimy bastard of an advisor, you thought again about what your second dive into espionage had dredged up. 

‘In his head’, Atreus said you were in his head long before you ever came on this assignment. Kylo had bristled at the words, shut you down quickly and you were used to secrets—you had many yourself—so you knew one when you saw it. 

_**Bond.** _

The word rolled around in your skull, burned on your eyelids in that awful, messy script. 

It hurt to think about. 

Physically _hurt_ , like someone was digging needles into your spine. 

So you didn’t think about it. 

Not yet. 

Instead, you finished fixing your outfit and walked back out of the empty room. There were answers and you would find them, but it was clear you’d have to get them on your own. So you let the door click shut behind you and took a deep breath. It was just dinner. You could do dinner and you would get your answers. 

On your own. 

* * *

The food looked painted onto the plate, contrasting colors and lovingly set out, but tasted like sawdust in your mouth. A shame too, it smelled better than anything you’d been served yet on Coruscant and was certainly a hundred times more extravagant than anything the Finalizer’s cafeterias stocked. 

But having the man who was seconds away from killing you just a short hour ago stare diagonally across the table with his corpse like eyes every time you moved did quite the number on your appetite. 

Thankfully, Lem was seated in front of you and had been prattling away for most of the meal, leaving you with little silence to fill. Part of the way through your fourth or fifth wood-chip bite, Gahl decided to change that. His voice was low and grated with age as he turned in the seat beside you to speak. 

“So, how are you enjoying your stay on Coruscant?” he asked, inching his leg out of the chair and closer to yours. 

“You’ve been very hospitable, Representative, I have absolutely no complaints,” you lied through your teeth, smile just as purposefully arranged as the food in front of you. 

Gahl’s hand patted your thigh just as he’d done at your first meeting, “Glad to hear it, I’m sure it’s nothing like those Star Destroyers.” 

You cursed every social rule of polite society which kept you from putting your knife through his hand. 

“It’s certainly a change of pace,” you mumbled around another flavorless mouthful. “Lem has been a wonderful guide.” 

In fact, you would give anything to be surrounded once again with nothing but bland, grey durasteel and the eyes of officers who were more than happy to pretend you didn’t exist. You’d even take standing in General Hux’s office, watching his ginger head flit about between sifting through files and insulting your diction in reports. If the Commander would even bother to look your way, you would have taken his cold, inaccessible stare over this as well. 

As your thoughts drifted further in the direction of Kylo Ren, another chilling voice joined the conversation. 

“Oh, don’t feel the need to flatter him,” Atreus chose that moment to chime in, scoffing into his napkin. “No doubt Alba’s simply talked your ear off about his low class, wait staff dalliance.”

Lem bristled, cheeks a comical pink with rage, “He has a name.” 

“Well, I’m sure he does, but I simply do not care to learn it,” Atreus sipped his drink and scowled. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the servers at all, it’s unbecoming of an aide to the Representative.” 

Across the table, Lem deflated and looked between you and Gahl. You were given the distinct impression this was not a new topic of conversation. 

“He’s right about that my boy, you can buy whoever you like now on the salary I pay you,” the Representative chuckled and downed the contents of his glass. 

“I’m sure our guest would agree,” Atreus’ eyes were trained on the plate but you felt his gaze on you all the same. 

“Relationships between superiors and subordinates are...frowned upon in the Order, I suppose.” 

You only caught a glint of the light off Lem’s slicked yellow hair as he turned toward the man beside him. 

“Certainly but it must happen,” he said. 

“Of course it does,” Atreus looked at you then, the blue of his iris was so light it nearly blended into the whites. “But it would be quite a dangerous predicament, especially somewhere like the Order, would it not?”

You were sure to keep your face blank and unassuming, though it was either much less convincing than you believed it to be or Atreus was actively capable of hearing the panicked screaming of your internal monologue. 

“Yes, yes it would be,” you nodded and looked back down to the table. 

“Particularly with someone of your standing, working directly under the General, I can only imagine the implications of a relationship with anyone high enough to be your senior.”

You could feel your eye twitch and your jaw tense almost against your will, as if Kylo Ren himself was choosing this very moment to inhabit your body. Really, you almost wished that he would, especially with his aggravating ability to remain completely unreadable in even the most stress inducing of situations. But alas, the only part of you Kylo inhabited was your mind in the form of an incredibly inappropriate slew of evidence for your so-called ‘dangerous predicament.’ 

“Hm,” you hummed quietly in agreement, hoping he’d drop the subject. “It would be quite unsightly, I’m certain.”

Meanwhile, Lem stared at you incredulously and hurriedly excused himself from the table mumbling something about the restroom. His blonde head quickly disappeared into the crowd and you were left alone with the Representative and his advisor, a pit developing in your stomach. And it was only made deeper by the muted betrayal in Lem’s parting tone. 

“The boy has always been too sensitive,” Gahl offered by way of explanation and Atreus nodded slowly. 

“He cracks too easily under scrutiny. He should know by now that softness is not a very useful trait in this line of work.”

You frowned and shifted in your seat, swiftly moving the Representatives gnarled hand from your leg. 

“Some amount of give is crucial in politics,” you said, gaze flicking between the two men. “It’s important to be able to bend to your adversary every so often. Being underestimated by your opponent often means you’ve been unwittingly awarded the high ground.” 

Gahl laughed heartily again as you excused yourself as well, though Atreus remained stony calm even when you glanced back between the sea of tables and waiters and expensive suits. 

Lem emerged from a side door not long after you’d posted yourself in the short, empty hallway leading to the restrooms. He would have walked straight past you if not for your hand swiftly yanking him back by the arm. 

“Wait,” you hissed as he turned to face you huddled in one of the doorways.

“What?” he hissed back.

Well. That was a fair enough question, though you hadn’t exactly thought that far. 

Lem stared at you with brows furrowed, obviously less than thrilled with how things were left off. A small part of your mind, which you were more than happy to bury and ignore, whispered that you ought to apologize. But that was most certainly not why you came after him. 

No, leaving the table was simply to punctate your last statement. 

Not because some part of you felt...guilty. 

Absolutely not. 

In fact, this was a perfect opportunity to do some more digging. Lem was your pseudo-informant and that was all. 

Right. 

That was certainly why the following words left your mouth in a tumble. 

“Are you okay?”

Lem paused as you let your hand fall from his arm, shuffling back so he could stand out of sight in the door frame across from you. He still looked cross, but his lips quirked up just a bit. You supposed he’d asked you the same so many times in just the last day, it would be appropriate for you to return the favor. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “That was by no means a new conversation.” 

“Under different circumstances, I would have been a bit more…” you trailed off and Lem offered you a signature toothy smile. 

“Appearances and all, I get it. Atreus uses any excuse he can find to bring up Jane since he caught us a week or so before you got here,” Lem sighed, running a hand through his neat hair. 

“Who?” 

The look you received was even more incredulous than before. 

“Jane, my—”

“Right, the waiter,” you nodded and raised your hands in apology, “so, why exactly does it matter who you’re seeing?”

Lem shook his head, “It doesn’t really, since I’m just an aide, but I’m fairly convinced he’s been trying to get rid of me since he was brought on.”

A gaggle of restaurant staff rushed past to the bar where a woman was loudly complaining about her food. You welcomed the attention her display drew away from you. 

“Oh, he wants me gone too,” you muttered and quickly waved off the comment when Lem leveled you with another confused glance. “Any particular reason why?”

He shrugged and hunched over so he could lower his voice, “Not sure, but I do know he’s been butting his greasy head in whenever the opportunity presents itself. He climbed the ranks quicker than most of the other staffers.” 

Now that was interesting. Bless Lem and his affinity for gossip. 

“That seems odd,” you frowned. “I hadn’t heard of him until this assignment, and I like to think I’m fairly well informed.” 

Lem scoffed and peered over his shoulder as if he would find Atreus there, breathing down his neck, “I’m sure you are. He just happened to materialize one day, determined to take my job.” 

Yes and your life as well, but Lem needn’t know about that. 

“Strange.” 

“Yes it is,” he replied. “And they’ll think the same if we’re gone much longer.” 

You nodded and watched him turn to merge back into the crowd, but he paused halfway into the hall. 

“Thank you,” he said simply and slipped away, past the bar and into the waves of diners. 

You waited another few minutes after Lem disappeared, and allowed yourself a small, secret smile. If for no other reason than your success at finally piecing together some information about the spiraling mess your life had become. But mostly at the rosy cheeked and chuckling sincerity that alleviated some of the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach. 

And you found the food a little less like chalk, the nerve wracking stares and inappropriate touches a little more bearable the rest of the night. 

* * *

The elevator ride back to your room was far more excruciating than any of the other unpleasant encounters you’d experienced that day. At least when you were cowering on the floor making peace with the fast approaching end to your mortal body, you couldn’t feel the bearer of your death breathing down your neck. 

It was so uncomfortable, you actually wished that the touch-happy, drunken Representative had tagged along instead of staying back till last call at the bar. Your heartbeat racketed up three times its normal rate when Lem pressed the button for his room a few floors below yours instead of riding back with Atreus to the office suites. 

“Did you want to discuss my notes for a bit?” you asked, trying and somewhat failing to keep the desperation out of your voice. 

Lem looked at you with a strange expression on his face, nose turning a darker shade of pink than usual, “Oh, ah, another time maybe. I have, um, someone waiting for me.” 

From behind, Atreus scoffed. 

“Truly, you are shameless, Alba,” he said and you heard him shift behind you. 

“Right,” you wanted to push the issue harder, but it would be worse if Atreus suspected you knew anymore about his plot than he already did. “I’ll see you later in the week then.”

The panel above the transparent sliding doors rang and Lem stepped out into the hall, “Yes, well not too long till the big reveal, so I’m certain we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

The soft hiss of the doors closing again reverberated in your bones like the thunking of an executioner's blade. You swallowed as your tongue turned to stone in your mouth. There were only a handful of floors in between before your stop but that would be more than enough time to maim your body beyond recognition and throw it down the incinerator shaft. 

You reminded yourself sternly that it was unlikely Atreus would exact whatever assassination plan he had in place in such a secluded space, but fear responses were not easily reasoned with. 

Atreus remained resolutely out of your line of sight and that only made the deep, instinctual part of your brain howl for you to _run, claw, bite_. Oh if only it were that simple, there would surely be far fewer aggravating superior officers in your life. 

The numbers on the panel moved far more slowly than you thought they ought to. With every extended second you spent in that horribly cramped lift, the air grew thicker with tension and the rancid smell of panic. Finally, _finally_ , the panel flashed your floor number and the doors moved aside to reveal the beautiful sight of an empty hallway. But just before you crossed the threshold to freedom, an iron grip clamped hard down on your wrist. 

“So sorry to keep you,” Atreus began and you spun to face him. “It has only just occurred to me I haven’t had the opportunity to discuss anything with you regarding the Representative and the subject matter of your speech.” 

He really had to wait until now to do this, now when escape was dangling over your head like an unfortunate prisoner hanging over the maw of a hungry sarlacc. 

“Yes, well Lem has been providing council with respect to the Order’s representation of Representative Gahl in all our official statements,” you replied calmly. 

The slightest twitch of your hand revealed a shocking amount of force hidden in the advisor's lanky arms. You stuck your foot back as the doors began to close, unable to bear another minute trapped behind them. 

“Of course, I simply wouldn’t want you being led astray by any of Alba’s short comings,” the grip on your wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, “I’d like to work more closely with you as we approach the first campaign endorsements.” 

“Certainly,” you forced a tight smile in his direction. “I would greatly appreciate your input.” 

The words sliced your lips as they tumbled out. You were accustomed to lying, yes, but stars that was potentially the least believable statement that had ever left your mouth. 

“I’m sure.” 

Staring hard into his dead man’s eyes, you tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as he unfurled his fingers from your wrist. Stepping back clumsily into the hall you waited until the doors hid his cheap imitation of a smile before you heading down the hall to your room. Better he not know which turn you took. 

You ran the rest of the way back. 

The tightness in your chest subsided by degrees the farther you got to safety and you didn’t even bother denying to yourself the hope that your Commander in all his black cloaked, looming glory would be waiting to stand between you and the reality waiting just outside. 

You really should have known better than to put any faith in his promises. 

“Kylo?” you whispered into the empty room. 

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t, and maybe that was the only reason you were brave enough to call out for him. 

There was a familiar black bag propped in the corner by your luggage which indicated Ren had at least returned to the Federal District at some point during the evening. That at least was something of a comfort, though a very small one. 

You grabbed one of the chairs from the table and shoved it securely back under the door handle. It scrapped against the floor and your shin throbbed as you kicked it in place. Once again the clothes on you wore seemed to have been permeated with whatever disgusting, oily sheen that leaked off of the absolute slug of a man currently puttering around in his office planning the best way to choke the life out of you. They itched and stung and you tugged at them quickly, pulling each item off in a flurry like coals blistering your bare skin. 

Free from the growing pile of discarded laundry you dug around through your cases. Your hands still shook as you scattered the contents, pulling on fresh bottoms that didn’t reek of lies and aftershave. You paused as your fingers brushed against something far softer than any of your Order regulation garments. 

Large, flowing, and predictably black, Kylo Ren’s undershirt hung in your hands like a shroud. 

You battled with your instincts. Half of you—the portion still living in the past where hatred was a simple comfort—wanted to ball it up and stomp it full of dusty boot prints. That side did not win and its screaming reduced considerably as the shirtsleeves made their way down your arms. You were enveloped immediately in a sense of sheer relief coupled with the feeling that what you were doing was profoundly reckless. 

But even if it was a false sense of security, your hands and knees were not shaking as badly as before. 

The Commander was intimidating and cold, but in addition he was intimidating and cold and standing resolutely between you and danger which was more than you could say for just about any other coworker. 

You supposed he was probably a bit more than that now. 

Eyes shut, you recalled the warm, full feeling of his approval upon seeing you in his clothes. The way it rushed through you and pulsated when he let his voice echo in your head. You wondered what it felt like for him. Was your voice a grating nuisance or was it a tingle at the back of his neck, the shiver of cool hands or maybe the surge after a well won battle. 

How did he do it, you wondered. How did it feel to read you so easily? To know all your doubts and fears and micro-defiances before they left your mouth. And how did he remain so resolutely aloof? 

Even now, as you tensed your jaw and tried to focus on the smell of him surrounding you and conjure his presence, there was nothing but dead air. You sighed and let your knees thunk down to the floor.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed that Kylo Ren only appeared when he wanted to, only answered your thoughts when it suited him. You could scream his name into the void of your mind but you couldn’t force him there—couldn’t Force him there. Which was unfortunate for many reasons. Being capable of wielding the throat crushing, invisible fabric of the universe at your will would have come in handy in so many situations. As you rubbed your eyes and prepared to wallow more thoroughly in the mess your life had devolved into, something caught your eye amongst the sea of clothing. 

From the Commander’s open bag, you could see something brighter amongst the masses of black fabric. Further inspection revealed that the item was shoved into the back pocket of his trousers and when you looked closer, it was clear what you were looking at. 

Your underwear. 

Your underwear was hidden away in Commander Ren’s luggage. 

And in your half shocked, half strangled endeared state, a memory surfaced. 

The night you’d spent writhing on your bed as Kylo sat, watching as the Force fucked you open. The image of him was clear in your head—a princely, demonic being refusing you the luxury of pleasure through his touch and taking your soaked panties along as a trophy when he was finished with you. 

It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

You’d thought it was a dream then. 

And wasn’t it? The lines between waking and fantasy were blurring more and more with every passing day. But Kylo hadn’t left. He was there when you woke, _that_ you did recall clearly. But these were the same, still unwashed from all those nights ago. 

Kylo had said there was a difference between dreaming and projecting, and to be fair you’d never been able to tell them apart. The Force was somehow involved. The same Force which seemed to have a questionable relationship with existing inside you. But it stood to reason, if someone as incompetent and disconnected as you could think yourself into Kylo Ren’s presence on very specific occasions, that he could do so whenever the hell he wanted. 

And while the implications this knowledge had on all your other sexual escapades was at the forefront of your mind and burning your face to a crisp, another inkling was forming amongst the embarrassment. 

If the Commander truly had projected himself—whatever that really meant—into your room to fuck you into oblivion without lifting a finger and kept what he’d taken, maybe you could do the same. 

Maybe, sitting inside your coat pocket was your own dream contraband. 

Crawling across the floor, you sifted through the mess at the foot of the bed until your hand felt something small and hard. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you pulled a familiar leather bound notebook from the pile and turned it over in your grip—hefty and solid and so very real in your hands. 

Staring down at the book you were at once intensely excited and overwhelmingly terrified. Logically, you knew that you were alone here and free from prying eyes no matter how desperately you wished not to be, but delving into what promised to be the source for so many of your questions felt too risky in the open of your bedroom. 

Quietly, you leaped over the bed and scrambled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and sliding down to the floor. Only then, with your back barricading you in with the tile cooling your heated skin, did you crack open the cover and begin to read the sloppy, looping scrawl across each page. 

A picture began to form in your mind growing clearer with every passing page. 

It was very much like reading the ramblings of a madman, and upon passing the first ten or so pages, your initial deduction of mad ravings only grew more accurate. The entries were similar to that of a diary, each one detailing a new piece of intel discovered. And just as you’d noted before, almost all of it had something to do with Kylo Ren. 

And you’d thought _you_ were a bit obsessive. 

There were names you didn’t recognize, and some you did—members of the Order, high ranking and not, scattered about. Occasionally passages were quoted from what seemed to be incident reports and older texts of galactic history. And of course, there were consistent references to the ever mysterious Force. All of which were written in such personal detail that you could be certain they came from someone who, unlike you, could and knew how to use it. 

The words were so jumbled, you had to reread each line and follow it like a hunting trail to the next running sentence. And the farther you got, the deeper you dived, the more you felt your insignificance looming—that tight in your throat feeling of being so small in the grand scheme of things. 

In _this_ scheme of things at least. 

From what you could understand, all the events leading up to your assignment to Coruscant and everything that had transpired since your arrival all boiled down this: power and the struggle to possess it. 

And at the center of it all was Atreus, Kylo Ren, and, inexplicably, you. 

In this story, you began as nothing more than another pawn on the chess board. Your name appeared maybe twice in the entire first half of the nearly full notebook. You were a footnote, a name scribbled in the margins connected to the General due to your position. After that, it seemed Atreus had gotten his hands on some more confidential documents, dozens of them in fact judging from his lists. Some were immaterial and contributed nothing, but from what you could gather, buried amongst them were dozens of your correspondence all pertaining to the Commander and all of which more than hinting at the small grudge you carried for him. 

He’d even quoted lines from you. 

As you progressed, the text became even more garbled, the handwriting rushed and nearly illegible but it was easy enough to see where it was heading. 

You were meant to be an example—of that you were certain. But not for the First Order, not because one Coruscanti representative wanted to stick it to its totalitarian overlords. Oh no, the threat of your death was meant as an example to Kylo Ren himself. It was a message, a lure, cast down from Atreus. When you first began to piece this together, it sounded intensely nonsensical. 

Almost entirely due to the fact that this plan hinged on Commander Ren of all people, having a vested interest in your life. Which, up until very recently, you would have deemed impossible. If anything, you’d have guessed he would greatly benefit from your demise seeing as you were at best an annoyance and at worst a roadblock between him and forceful galactic takeover. 

But then you reached that word. 

**_Bond._ **

Scribbled over and bolded with arrows and circles. You still couldn’t truly grasp the gravity of what it meant, but looking it over again, you knew it was true. Whatever this thing was, between you and your Commander, this was its name. And having read the journal in its entirety, you understood now why that singular word had struck you so thoroughly to your core. 

_“You aren’t going to die.”_

How many times had Kylo said that to you now? 

And it was constructed to bring your downfall. This was exactly what it seemed Atreus was banking on. It seemed all this want, all this hypothermic, desperate searching for one another was manufactured. The sense of wholeness, a sham. The pit inside you, the anger, the balm of Kylo moving inside you—all orchestrated somehow to fit into this master plan to remove the Commander and take whatever he was standing in the way of. 

Without this, you would have remained a nuisance swearing at Ren from across conference tables. Nothing more than a bug to be smashed against the wall and left to rot. And that sat terribly on your shoulders. 

Just as the book fell from your hands and onto the tile floor, you heard a familiar rattling coupled by a crash from the room just outside. Heavy footsteps rang out against the floor and a door slammed. 

Your name was called softly into the stillness. Just as you had called for him. A few moments of silence passed before you could answer, and when you did your voice felt strange in your mouth. 

“In here,” you replied quietly, listening to his foot falls approach the door and come to a halt. 

When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear his breath. Kylo paused at the door, the soft thump of his hand coming to rest against the wood the only other sound he made. You didn’t move from the floor and he made no attempt to open the door. The tingle at the back of your neck, the slight tugging of your strings, told you he could feel the thoughts racing in your head. 

Only minutes ago you would have been relieved to feel the warm of him spreading slowly down your spine. Now it felt strangely soured. For a moment you thought he might rip open the door, maybe bend you over the vanity again and teach what happened when you called for him out line. 

But he didn’t. 

When you didn’t shift from your spot to step into his grasp, you felt him pull away and heard the rustling of sheets and clothing outside. You didn’t know what you would say to him now, so instead you got up slowly and turned the water on. The mirror fogged over as you stripped and tucked the little notebook away under your clothes so the steam didn’t seep into the pages. 

You could wash now, you thought, and hopefully Kylo would have fallen asleep or left to stalk the halls again when you finished. Then you could buy yourself some time to think, unbothered by other prying eyes in your head. 

You stepped into the stream and scrubbed your skin raw, and all while the little black book watched you from its place on the sink, ever plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please leave me a comment or drop by tumblr @star-killer-md to let me know what you thought!


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